....old poetry

Okay so this poem is new and old at the same time .....old because I wrote it a while ago....possibly two months....and new because no one has seen or heard it yet. Well actually I thought I have been publishing too many poems on the blog and not too much personal stuff....not because I dont have anything to share at all but because I am not quite in the mood to put into words the daily life that although isn't exactly non-descript but definitely needs a little bit figuring out to do. So I am putting that on hold...no wait lemme just throw in a few pointers so I remember later what are the things I had been planning to write about- The city floods of last year, The way the city almost comes to a standstill every time there is an international conference, The view from our fourteenth-floor penthouse apartment, My imaginary one month in Madrid. Sometimes I seriously think how am I ever going to be a writer with such poor memory? I mean is it not just unfair, that through some complex genetic formulation it is my younger brother who inherited my father's photographic memory and not me. Well I suppose for unfortunate writers like me, the interesting details of memory can only be sustained throught the constant process of writing; which may not be such a bad idea as most of autobiography will be already be written in the process.

Title: (unnamed)

I have walked many a mile only to reach nowhere;
I have travelled to many places without ever belonging.
Sometimes I stood still, letting life rush by me.
Sometimes I walked so fast that I didn't notice life waiting for me.
I fell into a hollow of nothingness;
I am alive yet I do not sense.
It is too late to go back and fix things.
I had bumped into destiny on the corner of the street
But I was young and a fool to not to have recognised it.
I have it all and yet I posses nothing.
My eyes see things that could have been;
My heart wants things that I should have had.
Yet on the night of a thousand miracles
I hear a calling from the past.
I don't know if I am lucky to be called
A second time by destiny or
If it is a mere hunch that pulls me out of my modest home.
I walk towards the river in quick easy steps.
I am unsure of what to find, but I am sure
I am meant to reach; come what may.
---------------------(Tracy)