at first the words
were stone in my mouth
silent, heavy, unyielding
you pressed a coin
into my palm—
thirty for betrayal,
or thirty for truth?
now the choice burns:
to open my eyes
and let the imperfect syllables fall,
or to seal them shut
and sip the bitter draught
that keeps the poem flawless
but forever unborn
better, perhaps,
to stumble in speech
than to die with silence
curled like a serpent
around the tongue
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 17th, 2025 04:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments7
Such is the decision in poetry of writing. Some for fear of lack of perfection never write, some that write spend all their time rewriting, molding one perfect poem that never takes form, while yet others write whatever is in the heart as imperfect as it is. Better to know the imperfect than nothing at all. Nicely done my friend.
Thank you, Soren. Moving and living with imperfection is a life journey in itself. 🕊️🙏,
You are most welcome. Yes and sometimes accepting imperfection as good enough when there are other things to do that require more attention.
Indeed! 🙏🏻🕊️
Well written,
Many thanks, Friendship. 🙏🕊️
Ohh, I'll have fizzy pop to drink or summat similar, thanks - not hemlock! lol. What's it taste like? Anyone survived to tell?
I’ve not had the pleasure of such an acquaintance, O. But I will be sure to let you know once that occurs 🙏🏻🕊️
I am absolutely categorically on the imperfect side, I write exactly what comes out my head as I feel it, and it's always imperfect but has heart and meaning. If I waited or tried to obtain perfection, I would be silent forever, enjoyed the read
Same here. And I’m so glad not to be needing to wait for perfection. 🙏🏻🕊️
Et tu Socrates? 🤣 This one speaks from the gallows of creation...where words cost blood and silence demands more. A stunning meditation on truth and surrender. Well done, my friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Very perceptive, dear Tittu. Thank you for caring about my capricious muse. 🙏🏻🕊️
The speech of truth is the way to go Rik but so few in power know that way.
Andy
That’s the sad truth to it, Andy 🙏🏻🕊️
So very many possibilities reside here .. at first I thought about Judas .. and then Socrates .. and then about poetry itself and how different poets have variously claimed to have approached their art .. I guess that one can only speak, or write for themself if the truth were known .. it's no secret why I try to tackle it .. write on brother Arqios .. Neville 👍😎👍
Ah, dear Neville; that is the journey of the poem and its nuances. You are always much appreciated, and for that I am deeply thankful 🙏🏻🕊️
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