Lead Balloon

There . it  . sat

unyielding, unswerving in

its definance against the air;

my balloon.

I painted it red

I, gathered up its edges where

the rope gingerly hangs on

I, blew, I threw, I even kicked

it a few times…

but still

it goes nowhere;

my balloon.

The people passing by are

starting to stare.

The boy on the see saw

the girl on the swing

even the mothers who usually

say nothing to me

are now intensely investigating

me;

my balloon.

I thought it’d be grand,

a design

to prevent storms from taking it

winds from breaking it

birds from popping it,

to make the world

see differently,

to convince the  inconvincible

of my genius.

Every detail painstakingly thought

every solution and method

from wood to corrugated box

but lead just seemed the most

malleable and freeing.

Ancients used it in curses and

blessings, why even now it

protects from all kinds of il- ‘adiations

our scientific curiosities run us into,

so why not from other

‘nations of curiosities albeit

feathered and tempestuous in origin?

But, alas, here it sits, unwilling and un-obliging,

unwavering obtuse in its weightless

determination to not float, this

dripping in red acrylic and cotton;

my balloon.

{{Thank you to sonofwalt at dadpoet.wordpress.com/ .  I think I am going to do a few more of these Cliche’ poems. 🙂  }}

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3 thoughts on “Lead Balloon”

  1. OH, Blü! You inspire me right back! I nearly jumped out of my seat, this made me so happy. This is great on multiple levels (even the rhythm and rhyme that pops up here and there). I love what you are doing! Thank you for linking me back to it.

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