Some people are not meant to write poetry…

I know this feeling already

Just a feeling I get, some vibe or other

Makes me feel that we are meant to know one another.

Something so natural and flowing,

So innocent but alluring,

I already know that this is a trap.

I’m like Skinner’s rat.

I know this path down pat,

But I’ll still fall flat,

And be crushed under the paw of the cat.


How much discipline do I really have?

…To redirect this energy before I turn myself to chaff.

Will I heed the voice inside myself saying, “Flee!

Fly free! Think of me!”

Obey the red light screeching, “STOPPPP!”

Calm my heart, slow my pulse, take a deep breath…

And perhaps in that same breath,

Give up on what may not be coincidence,

But the machinations of providence,

Against the vigil within me of prudence.

Even the thought of love to me is an indulgence.

A trick of my mind,

One that passes like flatulence.

I read of pride today,

My pet sin,

One that I only shed like dead skin,

That resurfaces and needs to be scrubbed away again.

My own stubbornness I can’t overcome.

Angry with myself for all time,

Where looking inward has become a crime.

Please let me choose right this time…

Louella Mahabir

19th. September, 2011.


~ by louella001 on September 25, 2011.

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