An “Exile”
An Exile …
As of late, I’ve tried hard to compile a profile
My comprehension of the life of an exile
This out of bounds lifestyle that many revile
it has become a system I deem worthwhile
No rank and file found here, nor found in a church aisle
The hearthside is considered to be our first child
Every square mile of our brains is covered with style,
with expressions, and opinions being fertile.
While completely related, we are creative,
Translated our ideas are debated
Underrated, our means to be persuasive
We exude a vibe of being embracive
A native patois for exiles, a trait of—
Those trying to be appreciative,
Offering annotated ideas, made of—
seeing the world as being dilated
You may see us in nice boots or a stripe suit
Depends on the tactics we might use
Some words used are abrasive, some might soothe
Ultimately, your nous, we strive to pry loose
We are knights who sip fine wines, and nice soups
Men and women here alive to change my views
Each with a drive to fill the void in my room,
The void shaped by my mood and my youth
I’m selfish, yet some of them I see myself in
Their validation is something that I cherish.
I am jealous, some phrases are momentous
And some leave you breathless, as their scenes develop
Dreams are where the wealth is, perhaps embellished
No matter the case let me dispel this,
Conception equals infectiousness, a freshness
Attained in the mind’s eye, that when shared, it is selfless
Some nights the ear mites come blazing in with insight
Whispering whose pen touched their souls with the ink right
Despite me being picky, if such pens excite
And they just might, then I am in for a good night.
The fire’s ember burns real bright, and leans right
A slight breeze tilts it with the desk fan’s flight
I prep for fist fights or those wise one’s foresight
My recliner adjusted as such for each write
Imparting emotions as occidental arts
Given form, that they may be for the faint of heart
Whether through a contented heart or worlds apart
Each exile comes equipped with a rebellious start.
Each idea had is a la carte, dark and light parts
The gray matter where the mind comparts
I feast on all the flawed hearts thus becoming parched
My eyes glued to each page as they go bloodshot
My name is Paul and an exile I am
I am programmed to give a goddamn
To shock your soul through your diaphragm
your answer to enduring a traffic jam.
A civic rant, or boating the Rio Grande,
exiles outline the wave color near the boat ramp
how power affects the hue of the street lamp
my notepad says “Exile,” that’s my home camp
~~~~
For more works by this author see Paul Neglia on The Creative Exiles.
You can also see more great work by Paul Neglia on HubPages.
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Marvelous! Skillful rhyming and phrasing in this expressive poem, Well done, Paul.
Thank you so much Phyllis. I’m glad you liked it.
We are all exiles here, Paul. Well-penned.
Yes we are John. I’m honored to share the same stage with everyone.
Hey Paul it is good to share camp with you. I got some coffee brewing. Jamie
I’ll take you up on that cup Jamie. Good to hear from you again.