Five Minutes

I have five minutes to get this poem on paper
five minutes to get something down that you’ll remember
something that will strike you, touch you,
five minutes to connect
Connect with you and with myself
I’ll make this poem about me

First, I am an unhappy person
And I hope I will find clues in this poem
Hints, insights that will cure my unhappiness.
Bottom line I find no meaning and have no devotion

Maybe my unhappiness is a disease
I haven’t been feeling well lately;
Most of the time I’m tired and weak.
I sense something’s wrong,
But am afraid to find out
At my age, things keep falling apart

A good poem should have images that you can see
Songs you hear, smells you taste
But I am not good with imagery

Don’t always hear what’s being said
And have no appetite but always a deep hunger
It is a mind playing tricks on itself
Not much is up there right now.
I want to unload it all and start over
Begin a new life. Take only the right roads.

My mom just died yesterday
But that’s not why I am so unhappy
We really weren’t close
Not sure why

All the answers seem so close
just out of reach

Two minutes just passed and I didn’t write a thing

I’ve got two minutes left and my mind comes up short
I bet you your mind just keeps going,
doesn’t stop working for two minutes like mine just did
You kept reading, you never need a breather
you can do that

Something’s wrong with me
That’s me: always a bit short
Always short of breath, always needing a breather
I’m wasting away and need to change my ways.

And then there’s something always missing
Something’s always missing

As I look about my room I see so many incomplete projects
Projects I’ve never started, just in my mind
If only I had the time then I would
If only I had back all the time I’ve wasted

What a waste

Most of all I want to be happy
I just don’t know what happy is.

I realize my five minutes are over
And I never really wrote my poem.


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