Bottom sediment

Sometimes he loses the flow
and feels like an empty caul.
Sometimes his favorite show
is a tapestry on the wall.

His voice is an ant in resin…
Dumbness. An unfertilized plot
becomes incoherent and thin
on the bottom of the dry ink pot.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

17 thoughts on “Bottom sediment”

    • Oh… Thank you, Lily!!
      I feel honored that you’ve read it twice! WOW!
      Please, feel free, ask me everything what is unclear for you!
      Thank you again ❤

      Like

    • Meg, my dear lovely Meg, thank you!
      My heart always makes an extra-boom when I see your comments!!

      Warm hugs and only the best wishes,
      your Tia ❤

      Like

  5. I can’t tell for sure which emotions are happening. I feel discomfort, unhappiness but also hopefulness. There is still a grain of whoever the “he” is that you are still interested in (I get this from lines 3 and 4). But then it’s aggressive or insulting.
    Maybe this isn’t about anyone in particular. Maybe it’s about a repository of some sort.
    Either way, excellent work!! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    • Yes, a wise bird! We, poets, are the fucking cynical breed… we can be inspired even by a lack of inspiration… A written work about writer’s block. Nothing is sacred! Yuck! 😛

      Liked by 2 people

    • Michael, thank you ❤
      And please, please, don't worry! This isn't about anyone in particular, honestly!

      Who are we? We are melting-pots, blast-furnaces… We throw into our insides all what we see around. Happiness and sadness, smiles and tears, love and hate… We throw and set on fire our cores. Poetry. A mini nuclear reaction inside us. Can we tame a nuclear explosion?

      Thank you for your comment! I wrote my answer and I feel happy now… Why? I don't know 🙂
      Can we tame a nuclear explosion? 😛

      Liked by 1 person

    • I love your description. It’s so alive.

      Can we tame a nuclear explosion? We can tame the potential, which I guess is why it would happen. Then as it’s happening, I think nothing stops it. Nothing should in the case of your metaphor.
      The aftermath could be tamed, because of witnesses. When we share our poetry, it becomes the worlds to love, leave, or loot.
      I’m grateful for your thought provoking nature 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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