I wrote this poem a year or so ago, before acquiring the wonderful position I hold now. I wasn’t (most decidedly, just read below! :)) happy at my old job and was dreaming of “travelling” to countries far more colorful, populated by some of my favorite authors…I am fortunate enough now “to succeed” in crossing “that bridge” and that “my Visa” was “granted”. The “country” I live in now is populated with great artists and thinkers and gives me great inspiration every day! Please keep your dreams alive, as they can and will come true one day, mine did! I hope you enjoy!
After travelling to the distant shores
Of such countries as
Lessing, Woolf, and Szymborska, my
Skin glowing with the tan of genius,
Any hope of becoming émigré
Was suddenly ground to powder.
I wanted citizenship, but
Overstayed my welcome,
So I was deported back to my home
Country with its cities
Shopping List, Meetings, and Lunch Hour.
A decent meal or good museum
Cannot be found in my hometown of Doldrums,
With its curfew, middle-class army, and
Freedom of thought police.
There is no dictator, no theocracy, just the
Unending grist, a by-product of
Day after day after day after day of the
Through proletariat-colored glasses,
I only see the olive drab present,
But on the edge of this grey,
Reverie is fueled by
The candy luminous sky
On Cummings Island and
Its lack of punctuating clouds.
These daydreams are barbed,
That cause longed for pain.
A torture, to feel the
Pang again of comparing my pen
To the golden pen of these
To succeed I must cross that bridge though,
And then maybe my Visa will be granted,
Once, I make it to the other side.
© Jamy Sweet 2010-01-27