A longing that stretches like a cat
languishing by the fire ...
Thoughts ,tracing the evanescent curves
of these near dawns ,prelude of the conquest
of distant lands ,always leaving some nothing
of biterness ..
Damned cat taking up all the room on the sofa !
You won't let the memory of my loves be tamed ?
Lets' go poet ! resume the writing of your solitude ...
She won't come any more .
she was just the carefree passer-by
whose rain erases the sweet lie ...
Poet ,you only have a rendez vous
with the dessicated flower of the past ,
your words painting the music of absence ,
Then you invent a crazy ark ,
that casts the black ink of servitude
in some wild inner forest ...
Poet,you only have a rendez vous
with the clouds of an old youth ...
She won't come anymore .
And the cat still reigns on the sofa ...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 1st, 2024 11:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Bella Shepard, Ellen Marsell
Offline)
Comments3
Bittersweet in sentiment, beautiful in verse, add to that the imagery of the picture, and you have a trifecta of the perfect poem. Kudos dear poet!
Thank you dear Bella I feel deeply touched by your appreciation !
Poets are people who can't stop talking to the past. Wonderful writing!
Time is not conjugated to any declensions it is only seasons !
this really is quite something .. a little bit special in my book ..
Are we poets so tied to the past ?
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