I yearn to tell what's in my soul
but lack the words to tell it all
Ore, covered with so much ground
Digging, looses the interest of all around
Once mined it must be refined
Requiring a heat that can blind
Then shaped into a useful form
Polished and tempered, while still warm
Those pieces that are of no use
Cast into piles of refuse
I Watch them rust
Then turn to dust
Returning to the ground
Where they were found
- Author: sorenbarrett ( Offline)
- Published: September 9th, 2022 07:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
Comments2
Keep digging, the nuggets you'll find and bring to the surface will be a treasure forever.
Thank you dusk. My mind seems to always be sifting through the dirt. Once in a while i see something shiny but all that shines is not gold.
Dont critcise yourself so much sorenbarrett. You are one of the few mps poets i make a point of reading each visit (i dont visit every day at the momemt). Keep on doing what you're doing whilst learning new tricks from other poets. None of us write our best pieces every day.
For me this is a sublime metaphor, the mining and crafting of words into poetry. Who knows when that refuse may become gold. Such a fine write dear poet.
Thank you Bella for your review and words of encouragement
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