A known quantity bereft of quality;
a name of little beyond its letters,
by road’s shoulder perhaps guide
to openly weep a slippery slope
of once having known someone’s art
yet lay hold naught of their heart
eternally flowing river of kindnesses
shall meander, thoughts ever caress
even when words and faces now drift
a familiar feeling remains here still
years invested this regenerating gift
lines and verse ever ascend that hill
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 5th, 2024 21:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Beautifully done Cryptic. Line after line building toward a meaningful end. The use of cliches to make something original. Brilliant
Thanks Soren, it’s quite the challenge: rehash for fresh expression. Our language does have its expressive limits with so many users that originality seems an endangered species of sorts. You are much appreciated 🙏🏻
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