THE TORTURED VERSES

THE TORTURED VERSES  
A poem in 5 quatrains
By: Philip Kent Church © 2015
~
Here I am, all that I am . . . such as I am.

I live in boxes, of width, breadth and height,

Following fate’s clues, with all of my might;

Searching endlessly for posterity’s directions,

Working tirelessly, to make the connections.


Looking in between lines, a meaningful gleaning,

As my heart pines to discover, any real meaning.

Is the sum that’s greater than its parts really love?

Within all that exists, is someone there up above?


Life’s many components, and terrible persistence,

Interfere with notions of plains of higher existence.

Beyond empirical reality, it seems there remains a part;

Is it an accident of consciousness, is it love, God or art?


After all, are such thoughts necessary or essential?

Is it folly to waste time on things so existential?

Perhaps our reach exceeds our height attempting such endeavors;

Like a machine trying to operate itself, by pulling the right levers.


Esoteric pursuits can devour souls like ravenous cancers.

Art can drive madness in minds questing for the answers;

But when bereft of love, what we long for can be curses.

That’s when we inscribe life’s poetry, in tortured verses!


Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Winter 2012