Poem: Impracticality


It is not at all practical, yet strong enough
you can see yourself, or better still your love
stretched out on it. Reading, or simply talking,
feeling, part of another age planted squarely in this one.

No, not practical. Beautiful, Set to catch the light
or another era. No clutter. Only the essentials:
A good book. A journal. A glass of wine.
And light and good lines.

Worth the sacrifice of practicality,
which is overrated mostly. Practicality
never reaches the heart, the soul,
and this, a fainting couch with impractical fabric,


So this is how you surround yourself.
Practical is for the kitchen. Maybe.
The rest of life can be less so. In the end,
you miss practicality less than you miss soul,

This is a lesson you learned
the way you learn most things – the hard way.
but there is an advantage to learning the hard way.
It lasts. It is remembered. It stays.

Impracticality and all.

About this poem

I tend to surround myself with things that are beautiful (to me) more than things that are practical. Beauty matters to me, even if it is not always a beauty that everyone would see as such. I see it. That’s all that matters.

So, chase your own beauty. Make it yours. Surround yourself with it. You will never regret it.


PS: The picture was taken at The Mount, Edith Wharton’s home in the Berkshires.

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