I is for…

Immured in introspection
I investigate isolation
in inscrutable islands.

(Islands’ insect inhabitants 
infuriatingly inject irritants
intradermally.)

In intimate idyll
I inhabit idealised identities
- Iseult, Ishmael, Ishtar.

(Insect-injected ichor
incites insistent irritation.
Impatiently I imbibe imidazole.)

Infinite interstellar intensity
inspires inflowing ideas
in its intoxicating indigo.

(Its inspiration is ineffective.
I’m intellectually impeded.
Infernal itching!)

 

A poem for the letter “I” – inspired by Rick Mobbs’ picture above. And the verses in brackets are heartfelt – I have mosquito bites all over my feet, which definitely distract me from the beautiful scenery! Imidazole, by the way, is an antihistamine…