Year 2025 Poem: 2025, wednesday, by Richard Impert Jr.

midweek broke this new year in as a long fast—
the topsy and turvy in my stomach won’t quickly pass.

see, the sweet notes of hope don’t always dance atop my membranes in practiced routine—
no, today my thoughts stumble, sashaying away in silence, a sordid sort of vogue.

I step into a spotlight that only my eyes can truly behold,
chasing melodies of serenity moving just a three-count away from me—
after and after my heartbeat,
perpetual metronome evading me.

whiplash: rushing or dragging?
my feet: iron cladden?

madden, I:
madden,
groove, I:
try grabbin, but
can’t seem to
catch it;

disjointed patterns even in the way my chest fills,
air passes—
breathe, sun, breathe. this year:
watch me tapdance in marvelous fashion!
catch the pitter-patter of my fluttering pink-matter in vim and vigor,
a needy sort of passion!
let waves wash over me, forever crashing, but
instead of whittling away as if brittle beach crafting,
as i’m sargassum-fashioned:
won’t let buffeting push me into riptide, backwards.

nah, it’s on that buffeting i’m breaking fast in—
affirmations of an in-process crime of passion.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest