What then is there left to say
in some new poetic way
about these prosaic times
within a pure mosaic of rhymes
For poems of true love
are as antiseptic as a glove
full of blushing sighs
staving off inevitable goodbyes
Since I have seen my petals fall
being backed against every wall
by longing just to be held
feeling the unfelt joy of being meld
But the romance of our times
is just a dull sack of dimes
nearly quite as thin
for making my dreams begin
So, I gaze out into the night
seek to feel something to write
once more left here on the brink
once more hopelessly out of ink
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Author:
Libellule (
Online) - Published: April 20th, 2025 05:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Online)
Comments2
a powerful message, enjoyed
I too have thought what can be said that has not already been said. Yet each poem is different written in the ink of the soul that wrote it from the emotional blood of its author as different as each person yet the same as all humanity. We all have similar feelings but as individual as we they are stated in our own way. Stolen phrases and words are just that trite if not felt but jewels if from the heart. A thought provoking and wonderful poem.
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