What of the horrible diameter of my disappointment,
the round shade under where my resolve cowers, beaten?
Reality of it eating like piranhas,
revealing me down to my repaired bones.
There is a clarity in defeat missing from triumph,
which often grows murky as it ages, tarnish gathers.
Finishing dreams well before you awake,
seeing the end of it reaffirmed, you weep.
You aspirin down the joints and warm the tendons,
hoping to temper sleeplessness with lavender and white noises.
Moon and sun rise in turn so obviously yet random,
you shoulder the globe to proceed, fresh out of choices.
Still, the circling of futility continues, orbiting my poor new day,
some definite wetting by some imaginary rain.
Spirit stripped, subtracted from by wasted love;
tears bitter enough to shrivel leather escape, again.
It is nuance and detail that escape the successful,
who need everything that they keep till it is gone,
want to digest things before they are eaten,
wake bright and early on judgment day alone.
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: September 6th, 2024 01:21
- Comment from author about the poem: Striving to describe the often weakness of my optimism, failing to do it keep trying.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 25
Offline)
Comments4
Never give up trying! Excellent write !!
As usual, there is a significant amount of philosophy and wisdom in this poem.“There is clarity in defeat missing from triumph “ This statement rings, true as does the next follow up line. “ Which often grows murky as it ages”. They are very nice images as well and overall the whole poem was quite poetic. A very enjoyable read.
Philosophy anybody can express, wisdom I'm not so sure of. Thanks for the kind words.
Excellent write
Vulnerable write. Superb work.
Thanks much for the read and the compliment.
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