I walk and think and blink ….

I walk and think and blink ….

I walk and
think
and blink,
and observe,
.. and think the absurd
I listen to music,
and drift,
and watch people.


Listening to my mind’s thoughts,
… as l walk.

I walk and reflect,
upon my todays and my tomorrows too,
My yesterdays are brought into being,
as l walk, and listen and watch.

I no longer dream,
… when l walk,
but l think and blink,
and create and imagine…
… words and colours too,
Of what to say or write or merely just do.

I don’t talk,
when l walk,
not outwardly,
But inwardly l do,
… that’s not so strange.

But l watch what the others do,
…those who walk on by.
Passing me without a thought.
Caught up in their own moments,
maybe of colour or observed imaginings?
Occasionally, they too see others,
Like me and nod and smile,
… and gesticulate with their hands,
Displaying that life isn’t just one side,
even for those who walk without talking.


When you walk,
…. and listen to what’s in your mind,
you are oblivious to the thoughts of others.
But you think thoughts of others too.

But there are times,
…. When you stop and look about your world,
And you pause,
… then your mind talks to you …
The wise listen.

Perhaps when young,
Had they said,
Even with a slip of the tongue,
At best, life would be unread,
That there would be days when…
… a mere trace of yesterday,
Would seem to last forever again,
… and yet be gone in the same way.

A note of entrancement lingers as l pass by,
… thinking, have l not heard that before,
And if so why …
… and will there be more?

We age as we walk,
Each passing moment …
…. Is another fragment to chalk
Up to the list of life components…
… that should life become as such?
Have l learned nothing about anything,
…. As in a little or simply too much,
Of the empowerment of the colouring,
That we partake upon and in our endeavours,
To make an impression that will stand,
The test of time over not just years, but sometimes mere hours …
… is enough and yet we struggle to grasp the hand,
… that brushes intricately delightful strokes,
Like the whispers of our breath,
On eerily cold days when we must coax,
Ourselves away from a mental depth!

Strange thoughts of before and what was once,
… dance excitedly over the contours of my brain,
With each passing moment l must confront,
Them and not choose to abstain…
… from those darker times in life albeit easier,
perhaps and maybe, but not assuredly,
we age as we walk and our minds become busier,
… Careless thoughts can escape into obscurity,
If we let them, so we mustn’t, we must embrace,
… each and every one of those memories,
Understanding that they make us who we are,
They are us, our trace and our mental philosophy,
With all the years that we walk and think near and far,
Eventually we all have to accept the thoughts of the …
50 something going on 40 60 maybe …
… that life just goes on whatever the age of time,
We live, we breathe and we die,
… we walk, we think and we blink.

© Rory Matier 2021

17 thoughts on “I walk and think and blink ….

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  1. Philosophical musings! Much like my own when I walk outside by myself. Fantastic poem love how you shaped it in the form of a tree!

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