Hate to wait;
Hate being patient.
Does that mean I'm not?
Or just that I wait (too much) a lot?
Hate to ache;
Hate being stoic.
Does this make me weak?
Or does 'stoic' feel and then not
speak?
Hate to want:
Hate being lonely.
But before I had friends,
I didn't miss them: lonelier? Depends.
Hate to not:
Hate unfulfilling.
Am I wasting in this hate?
Or might it fire me out – beyond my rusted weight?
The image (as always) took me a lot longer than I expected: Added way more than I needed (faces, quotes, an expanding rollie-pollie bug) and in the end, went back to the original - a cannonball waiting in a cannon barrel.
ReplyDeleteBut it wasn't until I filtered & re-filtered enough to bring out the semblance of morning light glinting toward the end of the rifled barrel that the image reflected the poem in the way I meant it to.
*(Still for my "dear unknown," if you like keeping track of who spurs which poems. But really, they're all for me, aren't they? Me, me, me! Put me in a battle, I need something beyond myself ... and this dusty, powdered barrel)