ribald footprints
of a silent, broken guitar
rendezvous with an ebbing tide:
recalcitrant thoughts wash away
along this sandy shore.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 16th, 2022 03:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek, Paul Bell.
Offline)
Comments3
Good write C.
an impactful shorty, dear Poet
thanks for inspiring me to scribble
these feeble words
as a little, poetic reply:
(upon self excavated
lonesome islands
individual's, gather with their shadows
to ponder
that distance between ideal sensuality
and those brief minutes, conceived
as sexual proficiency milestones
and the churning sea, all around
reflects
that distorted disquiet
in our projected, mirage of solemnity..)
lets begin
'with sex, is not a sin'
and hope future
generations, will evolve
to a realisation
of physical connections
as their intimacy's, sincerity..
That is of its own a separate and complete piece of poetry! Looking forward to see it posted sometime. Thank you again. Rik.
I'm thinking sand castles were far from your mind on this little journey of pleasure.
Could very well be, Paul... or perhaps looking out from one of its parapets; or even watching the sea reclaim the castle with each swipe across the strand. Thanks for reading and sharing that intriguing thought. /Rik.
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