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…
Words that sing 
I’m smiling over my stolen lunch, enjoying my stolen internet.
Pingback: new arrivals, new arrangements « the storybook collaborative
*applause*
What a great poem. 😀
Impressive. Ingenious.
Wonderful poem!
Sorry about the bites and itchies.
Wonderful! Rolls off the tongue.
you handled this one perfectly!
what a great job!
jorc
empty garden
Ha!