I'm a mere whittler of words on a tree, a tagger of graffiti
I can't paint the Sistine Chapel or carve marvelous art
I write fading signs of love, some from above
Though an amateur, they come from the heart from finish to start
Some from care, some from despair
Although my words are rough
I don't wish to offend, damage or upend
Knowing I've touched someone, will be enough
- Author: sorenbarrett ( Offline)
- Published: February 12th, 2023 06:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: Bella Shepard, L. B. Mek
Comments4
i like the flow
Thank you for taking your time to review and comment on this piece
What more is there to do other than try, Soren? Neatly summarised.
So, O Whittler of Words, on to the next one... it's all I try to do and hope.
Thanks Dave, after that last poem I thought I had chased all followers away. Thanks for the kind words
The whittler of words has created a piece that comes from the heart, the very root of the amateur. Beautiful in soul, as is this poem dear friend.
Thank you dear Bella I so appreciate your kind comments. I am looking forward to reading another of you wonderful works.
Brilliant!!!
'I'm a mere whittler of words on a tree,'
how many trees, in the world
are adorned with name initials
cocooned within a carved heart
(so deep, as ever)
Thank you L.B. your comments continue to inspire me as does your verse.
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