I-75 In The Gloom
Autumn has not come and built a room.
The windy hills are not less mighty things.
I-75 is not gathering in the gloom.
My eyes are not as willful as the rain.
I do not think the ground has touched the sky,
(my heart is not a blind, unseeing thing.)
Far off like hills that beckon blood to fly,
the high and windy leaves aren't what they seem.
They are not there to make me wonder why:
only in sleep do I approach the dream.
The high and windy hills of Tennessee
do not retain the echo of a scream
I did not propagate so suddenly
to wrap around the world (and build a wall.)
I analyze its abscence - just to see:
the world, it did not spin here like a ball.
These things - they did not happen here at all.
- Mr. Moribund's blog
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Mystery
Forgive my ignorance, but I have no idea what I-75 means. (I have noticed that 7 + 5 = 12 and if I is the number 1, - maybe referring to the self, then that makes 13 in total. The result is a number with many superstitious miens!) And yet, maybe I don't wish to know! Part of the charm of this poem is trying to figure out connections with this image! A great reading experience!
Smiles and Light
AuraGem
Thanks. Actually I-75 is an
Thanks. Actually I-75 is an interstate that runs through my home town. So the poem is just kind of an existential musing in terza rima. I may not have spelled that correctly. It's late and I like beer (interstates too.)
Some few in that, but Numbers err in this,
Ten Censure wrong for one who Writes amiss;
A Fool might once himself alone expose,
Now One in Verse makes many more in Prose.
-- Alexander Pope