My imaginary life

Just discovered Writers Island days after discovering Poetry Thursdays which apparently is deceased, or at least in exile, having evolved into some sort of travelling wordshow. Anyway, been reading a lot of great work on people’s blogs and am excited to have happened upon a new community of writers. Here’s my go at this week’s theme, which i must say, had my imagination reeling, after all, all i do is write and re-write this life with imagination ink.

in my imaginary life
i am a full-time poet
and a part-time everything else

people leave me to my crooked shack
and don’t ask what I do down there
or why I drink so much green tea
or arrange and rearrange rocks on the beach
or why my shack is so crooked

I never have to answer
the question “when will you find time
to read all those books?”
because all I have is time

for reading
writing
and dreaming
with open eyes

never once in my imaginary life
do I feel guilty
for being idle
or lost in other worlds

in my imaginary life
it is enough
just to sit and
sift silence
until a poem
falls
to
the page

in my imaginary life I am free
to contemplate existing in
an entirely imaginary world
indistinguishable from my
so called real-life

in my imaginary life
there are no clocks or cell phones
or cars without mufflers
or misconceptions of the value
of poetry

in my imaginary life
the people realize
suddenly
all of them
that the motion of this life
be it imaginary or otherwise
the buzzing and twirling of
so many unseen particles
colliding and copulating
spreading dew and fog and light and color
are all poems
rejoicing at their release from
that place where unimaginable things
are kept
waiting for the one who will
imagine

in my imaginary life
I imagine that I have been here
all along imagining something better

in my imaginary life
I am not a kid who
grew up
and had a kid
and still wishes
he was a kid

but rather a kid who
grew up and up
into a big kid
with an overactive
imagination

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16 thoughts on “My imaginary life

  1. blue, my darling, no need for you to feel burdensome, this is a poem about an unobtainable place, a dream land from the perspective of an introverted book hermit poet. it says nothing of the importance love has in such a life, but should.

  2. I don’t know if I have anything novel to say after all of these wonderful comments. Except that I am touched and filled with gratitude.

  3. in my imaginary life
    there are no clocks or cell phones
    or cars without mufflers
    or misconceptions of the value
    of poetry

    I love that stanza… 😉

    What a great read! Glad you found the island!

  4. “never once in my imaginary life
    do I feel guilty
    for being idle
    or lost in other worlds” – i love these lines! i want to live this way too.

    really enjoyed reading your multi-faceted poem and your reflections on poetry and fatherhood. thanks for sharing this.

  5. thanks everyone for the feedback. though i feel very strongly for these things i see in my imaginary life, i felt the poem was a bit rough due to the spontaneity.

    Simone- feel free to cross post on your blog.

  6. me too… i have my imaginary life… and my imaginary shack… now i just need to imagine me… and know it is all ok… this idleness i so desire.. this silence from the outside world… all of this,,, we share…

  7. As a new father, I discover on a daily basis that I am still a big kid at heart myself. Children have a way of bringing that big kid out of you.

    Thanks for the visit. I enjoyed poem.

  8. I love this. I am living in that crooked shack, rejoicing in my marriage with all the time in the world… Thank you for sparking my imagination and giving me something so delicious to sink into…

  9. this is wonderful, true I’ve never had a kid
    but I understand where u are coming from
    the only difference is
    they ask me why I drink so much water
    I dont arrange and rearrange rocks on the beach
    but rather I collect them, lots and lots of them
    and shells and broken and lost things
    walking up and down
    by the sea is such a wonder full place to be

    would you mind if i copied and paste your poem on my blog? giving you full credit for it of course.

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