The clock whispers
To the candle flame
Flicker on
From ancient times
Your lips speak in tongues
To a willing eye
Sing me a song
Out of sync, no rhyme
A hand across the darkness
A heat in icy lands
Honour hope
From sinking sands
One day, one day
One moment in time
Talk to me, make your words
Mine
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Author:
sylviasearcher (
Offline) - Published: March 2nd, 2019 19:03
- Comment from author about the poem: It’s late and I don’t feel well so this is probably a bit rubbish, but hey. A feeling that wanted to be captured.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Offline)
Comments3
Rubbish it aint - glad it was captured I enjoyed the read.
Thanks Michael, it was just a scribble of a moment before sleep and was unsure whether it was too unpolished.
It can take me a few months to like my own poems.
I think we can all suffer from that. I have written one about a derelict area which I keep returning to. It is now quite different to the concept I started out with and its quite a short simple piece - might post it sometime later in the week - trouble is I make adjustments every time I look at it and then like to return later with a clear head to see how it reads - and then make more adjustments. And so it goes on.
1 more comment
Super write Sylvia, a long, long way from rubbish.
I think my body is feeling rubbish with a strange malaise so I was struggling with writing.
A tender gem of a hopeful write Sylvia - - its plea comes touches the heart.
It was accompanied with a tender and hopeful feeling. Thank you Fay.
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