“Balloons, Tied To Wrists, Filled With Hot Air”

Last week I published a piece called “I Am., Part II,” and one of my faithful readers, disappearingwoman (whose awesome blog, The Ravenously Disappearing Woman, you can check out here!) commented with something that struck a chord with me, so much so that I wrote a short little poem inspired by what she said. She wrote: “Tenuous dreams laced with pending, life realities seem unreachable. My advice, from experience, would be to not let your dreams slip away. Even if you have to tie the string of your writing goals around your wrist, like an amusement park balloon, to keep them from drifting –do it!” This not only inspired me, but it made me think about the tangibility of my dreams and goals and really made me think about the present and what is currently in front of me, what’s really tangible.

This is what I wrote:

 

“Balloons, Tied To Wrists, Filled With Hot Air”

 

Pillow talking,

the formation of something new, 

something intangible.

.

Lighter than air, lifting me beyond my limits.

.

Hot air bubbles rise

in empty spaces above my head;

new dreams imagined.

.

Tenuous dreams

inflating with every breath, suspended,

pending approval.

.

Every morning’s routine:

Wake and tie the night’s balloons,

engorged by a fool’s helium,

tight around my wrists and

carry them to the bathroom and corner store,

under dreary fluorescent office lights,

as I search for nourishment in places where I can’t get any

my balloons are tethered to me.

.

Dreams of grandeur hitched to rainbow strings.

With only a thin layer of rubbery skin, it’s dangerous child’s play.

So I hold on, white-knuckled.

.

Each morning, a new balloon

appears around my wrist, weighing me down;

reverse gravity.

.

Sky has disappeared behind a canopy of color.

.

Oh, colorful balloons,

tied to my wrists, filled with hot air:

please don’t pop!

 

I realize now that the best I can do is to stay focused on the present; it’s no use dwelling on the future and what might happen because the future is unknown. All I can do is live in the present, write for the present, and let go of the future. That doesn’t mean I have to let go of my balloons. For now, they’re just tied to my wrists, floating above me, waiting to carry me on my next adventure.

10 Comments

  1. This really effected me man. I’ve been holding on to dreams myself and this really made me think about them. The goals I reach for are my own balloons tied to my wrists — within my reach, yet floating out of my reach. Crazy.

  2. This poem shall be bookmarked in my fav’s from now on because I ALWAYS NEED THE REMINDER.

    Also, I just re-read it, and I gotta say dude, you have gift for poetry too. Is there any writing you can’t do?!

    Lastly, this makes me want to watch the video for Dreamlover, because balloons.

    1. There are many things I can’t do, such as:
      1) Acquire a lit agent
      2) Write something that gains the attention of a lit agent
      3) Convince a lit agent to love me
      …I can go on and on, but mainly, the one thing I can’t do seems to be this: I cannot write a proper noteworthy novel.

      #BalloonsPopped

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