Xeno Hemlock

I’ve had my fair share of flops, failures, and disappointments in my writing career. However, the beat goes on and I’m still marching on. Sometimes I feel nostalgic, not that I yearn and want to live in the past (no, thank you very much.) But every now and then, old memories pop in to say ‘hello’. I look at some of my abandoned projects. For a short while, I’m transported to an early time when I probably had some or all of the following: hubris, a few chips on my shoulder, “smoldering” passion, and unbridled addiction to a certain alcohol.

Tonight during a blip in my normalcy, I stumbled upon this old poem of mine, taken from an abandoned project called “Her Name was Nadya”. Here’s an early draft of a poem called “The Gift from the Cosmos”.

Porcelain knew
it could not be forever
the foraging for food
like a lonely hunter
something must be more
than life’s monotony
of waking,
eating,
talking,
walking,
yawning,
and returning
to sleeping.
Tired from hunting
empty-handed
and disappointed,
Porcelain sat
on the banks of the town’s river.

“Plok,”

something from the river said.

Plok!

And then I’m back to my normalcy again.

Header photo by Daria Sannikova from Pexels.