"Ritualize"—it’s what I seem to do
when the prosaic day is through,
as I embrace the quiet night,
preparing once more for the write.
With pen, with paper, blackest ink,
I set out once more toward the brink—
to the margins where I hide,
where truth can never be denied.
I let the waiting quill now play,
and pen the words I dare to say,
taking my own poetic time,
immersed again in steady rhyme.
Recalling where my steps have been,
each fleeting virtue, every sin—
a pilgrimage of light and shade,
through years in which my tresses grayed.
Now I find myself just here,
with one lone, joyful, falling tear,
as I near the quiet end—
where the path no longer bends.
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Author:
Libellule (
Offline) - Published: April 9th, 2025 05:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, KTay
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Comments2
For its wonderful rhyme a fave. The journey is felt in this poem and it tells it well. A lovely piece whose structure and rhyme are its strength. Great wording and flow to this very nice work.
A beautiful write, the preparation of writing their poem at the end of the day, the only place they can say what really happened and the truth, with a wonderful last line, really enjoyed the read
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