Just for Measure

by brian francis

Sometimes it is like beating a dead horse
trying to paint the imagination
One chance, one shot to engage the mind
the lead in to the depths of conception

A word can cause offense, an idea a war
a rhyme, spoken well can inspire
and a voice can cry truth or treason
like waves on a beach – eternal

I found a dream drifting in a cloudless blue sky
and I captured it upon the page
its syllables shimmered and danced on my mind
coalescing into thoughts most sage

I searched for other pieces floating nearby
but only found fallen embryos discarded
being tilled into the soil of memory’s decay
usefulness unrealized thoughts barely started

I stumble around seeking out some inspiration
my fingers raw from turning the stones
in hope of finding a morsel for my mind to devour
Aching I pour another glass of wine

Ahh the sweet taste of a good table red
Nothing there, let me hunt in the notes
from other days pages and seek lost wisdom
scanning the electronic journals of before

Oh so now the sun is falling into distant storms
and colors cascade across the roiling clouds
the day is gone without even some small success
frustration boils a mind as depression enshrouds

Another glass of wine and the doctor’s pills
and some jazz music to finish the day
tomorrow I will wake and I’ll do it again
the struggle giving purpose come what may


Copyright ©2020 brian francis

Published by

brian francis

Born and raised in the idyllic environment of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. A rural paradise perfect for a roving childhood. Now living in the desert southwest, with a flock of parrots, a pigeon, and Three dogs.

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