You know the one.
The mused words,
waiting, resting,
the only.
Poems that are not quite there,
vague notes of spectral songs
I like to write;
except death
lowers the pen for good.
The lament of the unwritten
carries the poetic soul
to be with no need of poems,
for all is poetry
and I am written in.
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Author:
karvelD (
Offline) - Published: January 11th, 2022 08:12
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 29
Offline)
Comments1
Erm, is it this poem? You've written it now! lol.
Hi and thanks for the note. I hadn't thought of it quite that way but . . . hey, why not:):) Some of our funnier twists and turns just seem to happen. cheers.
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