Scribbles?
Just right...
Some rhyme with reason?
She'll be right...
All these thoughts and angles-
Flowing through the veins:
How can a scribble make any sense,
How can it proclaim?
The internal working,
Of the heart of man,
Or of its desires,
Or what it can command?
This is what I mean! off on a tangent!
Whispers blowing on the breath:
Everything seems random?
So I know there is a plan.
That much I can trust.
So another scribble, comes from the dust.
-
Author:
Valiantstar (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 3rd, 2026 07:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, A.N.
Offline)
Comments3
All things work out for the best although we may not see it at the time or even ever see it. God or nature has a way of working things out.
What an engaging piece, Valiantstar! The thoughts wander, question themselves, and appear to lose their way...yet that very wandering uncovers the trust holding everything together. Wonderful write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Preaching to the choir! Somehow some things make all the sense in the world the moment of its conception, but you give one last look and it all just falls apart like a make-shift dysfunctional mechanism that just kinda sounds right in the end. Ain't that somethin'?
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