His mind was filled with racing thought,
Never ending, through out the day,
Ideas in motion, carelessly sought,
Most times gone far astray.
Some people thought him crazy,
Others paid him no mind,
Although slow, but not quite lazy,
Most certainly one of a kind.
Arriving at a past destination,
Remembering, he wants to believe,
Dwelling into a strange fixation,
Lost between real and deceive.
“Have another drink, try the Rye”,
Although the day has only begun,
The job at hand has gone awry,
Days work, will again go undone.
Chasing off in another direction,
Following what crossed his mind,
Endless stories, the same collection,
Elements fit loosely, unconfined.
Tracing back to the original theme,
Sidetracked all along the way,
Something about a fencing scheme,
Many hours burned up this day.
“See ya tomorrow”, he shook his fist,
“Damn bull tore down the fence again”,
Simple reasons, he was meant to exist,
More mending will come in vain.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Tangents by G.R. Gaus )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
James Russell Lowell
(22 February 1819 – 12 August 1891)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
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- Dreams, Langston Hughes
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- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Alone, Maya Angelou