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.
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Author:
Libellule (
Offline) - Published: May 27th, 2025 05:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
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
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