He runs to flee
The feel of death,
With a fearful bent
Fixed on his breath,
No doubt be spent
On a hapless plight,
Spinning out time
Thru day and night,
Desperate to shed
What blurs his mind,
Held be fixate
He must so mend,
Before it’s past late
For a dispossessed,
Who so condemned
Must live obsessed,
Save he should find
Plight’s end in time!
Poetry on a Canapé 
“He runs to flee the feel of death” is a powerful way to open any writing. This feels like a cross between Shakespeare and Poe. 🙂
Thank you, my friend, for such a high compliment. That I know of your sincerity, allows me to take pleasure in the praise you bestow on my humble words, for me thinks ye be too kind and more than generous. Though thus so set the bar quite high, for me to imagine my poetic reflections in such grand company.
In any event, I truly appreciate the incentive these names command, in working toward ever more worthy poetic compose. You are indeed a very special find Paulette, and I thank you still for your ongoing presence. Jean-Jacques
We are not good judges of our own work. Your poems are exceptional and reminiscent of some of the great poets past. Happy day to you, my friend. ❤
Thank you again, my dear Paulette… You are indeed a rare, and insightful friend! Jean-Jacques
Did you see this article from Scientific American entitled: People Prefer Electric Shocks to Tedium?
http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/people-prefer-electric-shocks-to-tedium/
Sometimes the act of being frantic makes people think they are experiencing life to the fullest. You are so right – I think the fear of death creates a certain type of anxiety that seems to find relief in being busy. Powerful words:
“He must so mend,
Before it’s past late
For a dispossessed,
Who so condemned
Must live obsessed,”
No, I had not seen that article until now… fascinating, but not surprising to me. Without today’s human beings, mostly inhuman beings, speed needs of ever faster and busy, how else could the electronic /smart-phones world etc have progressed so fast in such a short time.
We are now a full blown crazy world of obsessed humans / inhumans. Walk in any restaurant and look at todays table settings, two seconds after two customers sit at said table…fork on one side of the plate, and knife, spoon, and cell phone on the other, if not already on the ear.
Kind of makes my “Obsessed” poem timely, so to speak. Thank you Rebecca, for your words on the poem, and the Scientific American article on the related matter. Jean-Jacques