492 - Enldess paths

 

This 32nd poem did not want to come in stream of consciousness, and required repeated gardening.

I started its composition following Miriamc4's prompt on Threads : There is a path before me - from August 22, 23 and 29, first in English for the first two stanzas, then after a short break, on the 31st in a Twitch workshop at LineManoury, with a subject given by Eden. The workshop lasted an hour and resulted in a text more narrative than poetic, with few rhymes, from the line of laces to the side of a wreck, or 95 words.

The following days, I continued to garden all the texts, converting to a more poetic form and more rhymes, mostly in pairs. From the beginning of the workshop, I composed my lines in French, then in English, simultaneously, and during the last phases, opted to change words for better rhymes, which preserve both the meanings in both languages ​​and musicality.

A quick comparison of the number of words: 285 in French and 254 in English, for this atypically composed poem.

Endless paths

 

There is a path before me. Its course, zig and zag, serpentine.
Its soil dry & coarse, crumbling, pounded underneath a horde’s tyrannizing feet.

Mountaintops reflecting in a distant mere, beckoning a brilliant sign.

I hasten my steps, light’s just beyond reach. Against whom do I compete?

 

Is this destination a true oasis or could this pool shimmer a phantasm?

In the twilight, my very steps fade and crumble.

On and on I must tread this winding path, towards possible miasm’.

Against ongoing storms, arching my trunk may save from a dim tumble.

 

Untied shoelaces make me trip, I stagger and drop many a fathom.

My life flashes as I blink at skidding sharp rocks, and wither a whimper.

Damp contact of clothes and salty smell awaken my phantom.

Dazed, I open my ocular sockets before a blurry image of wrecked rotten timber.

 

Mountaineering rope waisted, I swim, pulling this oblivion’s boat sluggishly.

By the glow of my glittery nail polish and phosphorescent walls, materials I assemble and expectedly set ablaze.

Letters surround a mermaid on the wreck’s flank, the flank of the Magalie.

Memories of yesteryear crystalize before me; tears burning my cheeks dissolve my vision into a haze.

 

In this game of snakes and ladders I emulate Sisyphus and Tantalus,

time and time again do I follow cavernous passages rolling weights I’m barred to forsake,

oscillating journeys from the depths back to mountainous ravines

overlooking reflecting lake.

There’s always a path before me and shadows overlapping previously trodden steps in my wake.