I have always been one who delves,
unmoved by books gathered on shelves,
no longer willing to still pretend—
I prefer each raw beginning to its end.
So I set off once more this night,
armed with pen and paper for the write,
into this endless velveteen dark,
where every word may strike a spark.
Never sure of what I’ll find
when I walk away from this daily grind,
forsaking all that remains so prosaic,
to dive even deeper into my mosaic.
Casting these darker poetic spells,
I watch the ink as it slowly swells,
then spills in echoed silence on the page—
a reverent hymn to a forgotten age.
For the dull tenor of these times
may be the most heinous of all crimes.
So I continue questing for any verse
which might just shatter this tragic curse.
-
Author:
Libellule (
Offline)
- Published: May 27th, 2025 05:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Comments2
Beautiful and pensive it talks to the drifting thoughts that pass through one's head. A great poem of rhyme and thought
Beautifully written, enjoyed the read
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.