Poems of Life
A local poet shares his writings based on real life.
Through the Darkness of My Memory
December 8th, 2012 at Sat, 8th, 2012 at 2:12 pm by Ed CorriganI am always returning to the past
It passes me by
And I’m left standing
In the middle of nowhere
Is it love?
Love we are searching for
In the deepest recesses of our minds
Between the cracks of our own existence?
We look toward beginnings
In the loving womb
The warmest, softest, wettest room
To the beginning of the end
Open my mind
To the truth that so painfully
Stares back
Through dilated, mutated, shredded, stoned out eyes
It is mine own truth
That scares me back into
The self-created hell of convenient infliction
Love is so easy
It defies gravity
Love is real
Real is love
Love is feeling
Feeling love
Love is wanting
To be loved
Back to the womb
Of all mothers subsistence
Before words got in the way
Of what?
No words to describe the
Ultimate peace within
The all-around soothing sound
Of waters embryonic
Return me to the emptiness
Of space
Floating, cruising the unknown
Happy to be there?
I just don’t know
Or can’t say
As my words are yet to be invented
Words will soon cloud
New horizons
Revolving, swirling, screaming
The chorus
Of my fragmented soul.
Copyright © ed Corrigan 2012
All rights reserved
Ed Corrigan I am Ed Corrigan and live in Maple Valley with my wife, Nona. We have two terrific sons - Joe and Tim - and three beautiful daughters - Kate, Sally and Sarah - and one cat named Omega. I've been writing poetry, on and off, since 16 years of age. Early poetic influences were Shakespeare and e. e. cummins. A more recent influence is Walt Whitman whose "Leaves of Grass" is the most amazing thing that I've ever read. Music has been very important in my writing and in life. I am not a musician but early on the singer/song writers Paul Simon, Smokey Robinson and Bob Dylan had a big impact on my poems. More recently, I've been affected by Miles Davis, Green Day, Alanis Morissette, Linkin Park and others. I love to write and its something that I need to do. A poet once said that a poem is not complete until its read or heard by another. Thank you for visiting my blog.
More articles by Ed Corrigan >
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