A droplet greets its kin,
On that silken surface,
Dark and blue,
Coming over, echo-relayed,
Broken now,
In unrest; aggrieved.
Landing from its leaf-jump,
Smashing a preconceived
Image into pieces,
As if he were laughing at us.
Educating, in the might
Of the small.
It grazes our legs,
That are here without permission,
In the lulled dwelling of
Reversion, where headlong soldiers
Go to war, in search of their place
Among the lake.
In defiance, indefinition,
Their want outweighing ours,
Of yearning for the sky
Devoid of heat, or lack of air,
How truly foolish we are,
Searching for answers.
Playful clouds, above, below,
What a sight, luring in,
Further down, to the shade
In a garnished shape we can't see past,
To define our question,
And feel it through.
I'll wait a while,
For the tiring of soldiers
And their home to quiet,
Whatever must, will I do,
To sit here, staring at them,
And they haven't moved.
-
Author:
Nicholas Browning (
Offline) - Published: April 6th, 2024 02:10
- Comment from author about the poem: Sometimes all you really need is a place to think and time to wait.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments2
Good write N.
Thank you, my good man!
I hang around like a bad....... what?! lol. I wish you would stop your so-called singing, they say to me. heehee.
But you're such a good singer
Steve in your latest poem there's a typo lol "tham"
Thanks N. Bit of French there - tham! lol
The last stanza hits different, good write
Thank you very much for your saying so!
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