Life is beautifully random .
Accidental chaos .
A draining rainbow
riddles and conversations.
Rain and smoldering seasons .
Every theme a lovers soul
questions, locks and
Minor Keyes .
The verses of the mind
The poetry of the soul .
Thus to be remembered.
Sailing ships of worship slip
away from the shores of religion.
Poetry of composition
brush strokes of fate .
Along suffering
vows of indifference.
Grace and prose are her beauty.
Thorns and thistle,
Rivers and stone .
Time lost in heartache
Spiderwebs across the lense
of dawns looking glass .
Carrying daisies with
walking sticks and rain .
Time that’s worn
flattened and ragged .
Ripped from the lining
of a golden meadows hem .
Beneath a quilt of sorrow
is a straw filled conscience.
Making my peace
behind a long thicket
of wild rose .
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Author:
WL (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 8th, 2021 15:55
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 53
- User favorite of this poem: myself and me.
Offline)
Comments2
May that peace always be with you Bill.
Great to see you back on here once more.
Andy
It is the random and chaos that make life wonderful and painful at the same time. Thorns is part of the beauty of the wild rose.
Hope you are doing well during the ongoing pandemic. Take care.
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