April
April is Poetry Month. When the muse calls, I feel compelled to write poetry. Ever since I was a child, boredom has been my nemesis. Emotionally I have found it difficult to handle because I would get restless and moody. Rather than submit to the jaws of depression, I make sure my plate is full of stimulating activities that keep me out of trouble and lift my spirits.
My Reality
How can I separate myself from the stars, --Lee
Raffel, March 20, 1988 Boredom's Way Boredom's viney tendrils In pale apartments Telling winds whisper Boredom, you fiendish friend, --Lee
Raffel, December 27, 1995
When it is said I am made of stardust?
How can I detach myself from the winds,
When it is such that feeds me?
How can I know my length of days
And nurture my largess?
Save that I am
Needing you, needing me.
Drag me
To scorching plains of sameness
Stingy strings
Tighten around my middle
Till my heart hurts hard
From who can say?
I sup
On the dust of littleness.
Valleys of suffering
Spiced with bellowing laughter,
Veiled makings
Of the looney tune.
In my governing chamber
Of the least and most of me.
As boredom thirsts to sip
Of interior juices
Hungry for what?
Mocking my blinded groping.
Faintly satiated
With the sluice of living.
Exacting
I travel beyond
The perimeters of my soul
© 2000, Lee Raffel
All Rights Reserved
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