With a plunge, I sink and sink,
Slowly turning deaf.
Even now, of sound bereft,
It’s still too loud to think.
Endless is the canopy,
Blue now growing grey,
Already on its way,
To be naught but a memory.
In my descent, I’m left behind,
The anchor passing by.
And as I into darkness scry,
It’s as if the world was blind.
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Author:
YannickM (
Offline) - Published: August 20th, 2025 09:51
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, sorenbarrett
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Comments2
It is. We instinctively turn away from suffering, as if to look on it would pull us into its world and drown us. Ergo, as we sink none seem to know or hear, our corpse worth more than our lives. Beautifully rendered with excellent imagery and a haunting poignancy. Thank you for sharing.
And I thank you for this comment! Feedback like this is everything.
Very nicely written cleverly rhymed and emotionally powerful. A fave
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