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A Winter’s Tale

A Winter’s Tale

 

I went off half cocked

Not for the first time

Such befits our age

A fragment is taken for the whole

& consternation erupts

Nevertheless one must take leaps of faith

Else one winds up shrivelled

Like a late Autumnal leaf

At least the coloniser’s leaf

Mon oncle is worried about me

That I don’t sound very cheerful

He makes me feel self conscious

He lives in Spring

So he is feeling hopeful

My poem got interrupted by a counsellor

I get so tired of talking about myself

When professionals offer nothing of themselves

As Foucault said the soul (or psyche) is the State’s instrument of disciplining & punishing

In my case, as a mentally ill person

It is required for me to eat

As I get a disability support pension 

(Of course I have imposter syndrome on top)

But one point was raised

That when one is sick & lonely

Happy things radiate for less duration

Than when one is stable & in a functioning

(Ok dysfunctional, but crazy enough) relationship

At the moment

Once it’s over it’s forgotten

I feel like this Age might be a little like that

Heading into Winter

People’s faces close over

& the flowers disappear

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

 


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