Not Wholly Wrong

I see my sadness as something reflected,
the quicksilver flash in a stream,
that dances over stones and then skips
into a rainbow which quite perplexes
and the scent of freshly mown grass
which sends senses reeling.
No life is not on an even keel
and I feel the quickening ever more,
deep, deep inside, oh so deep,
a left over bottle from a vintage brew
left on the shelves its sweetness
turning acid and burning a hole.
I am the mist in the morning, the fog
on a commute home, the acrid bonfire
smoke that permeates and fills the
cotton fibres that you can never rid
as hiding behind smiles and cheeky grins,
life isn't quite spinning as it should,
my sadness is a reflection on an inner inspection
of all that isn't right but isn't wholly wrong.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 788 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2013-11-09 at 19:18

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text



So beautiful Elle and I see it is so rightly in Editor's Choice ....how could it not be:))))))))))
2013-11-11


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website.
2013-11-10


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is a very interesting poem. Overall, it's about melancholy, but not the usual, head-in-the-hands kind. Your melancholy is restless, a little jumpy. The various images are wonderful.
2013-11-10



This is among your best, in my opinion. There are not one but many strong lines here and you keep the reflective timbre and pensive tone going from beginning to end.

I'm very familiar with that feeling that something is not quite right--that some adjustment somewhere needs to be made to re-align things. But I find that these feelings are usually temporary and indicate that either there is something I need to change or that it's just my restless mind off on a tangent. Perhaps things are never Wholly Right.
2013-11-10


shells
I am relieved that all is not wholly wrong and it makes this poem so right. I seem to feel it too, for me it seems to arrive with age and thinking too much.
2013-11-10



What comes to mind after reading this, is the thought that a new day, waking, doesn't bring the sweet hope it once did. I'm speaking for myself, but inspired by your poem to say it. It isn't only age, it's everything. I'm glad that all is "not wholly wrong."
2013-11-09


salem
we creat the sadness if we want to be happy sure we can.
2013-11-09


countryfog
"Surely some revelation is at hand" said Yeats . . . with your poems that is almost always true, of a place, a moment, an introspection, a memory, some or all cascading in lines that leave me stunned, that so often speak not just to me but for me. The sights and sounds here do "send senses reeling," not in the sense of sensory overload but a profusion of connected threads of something truly experienced, how there can be a kind of gratitude even for a sadness that is "not wholly wrong."
2013-11-09