Early morning fog creeping up on us
Stealthy, wolves circling their prey,
Slowly dulling our senses, holding
Us prisoners of our own imagination
Virgin white sweetly filling all space
Obscuring and gently hiding reality
Clinging loosely precariously to
Unseen cherished memories
Keeping us guessing without hints
Daring us to vacate ourselves and
Boldly, without hesitation, surrender
To the enfolding unknown white
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Author:
Alfred Peyer (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 3rd, 2017 02:44
- Comment from author about the poem: Something a little bit different. Wrote this in March this year just letting the fingers dictate the words.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 96
Offline)
Comments6
Good write, those fingers did well.
Thank you!
Your description of the fingers of fog versed its demand to surrender so well - - great read Fred.
Thank you Fay, still not sure why and what I am surrendering here to.
It's somewhat wonderful that this took me to a wee place in my imagination. Thankyou 💓
Thank you Renzi, you are right, this one is wide open, leaving room for your own imagination. Never looked at it this way before.
Were we not all born into fog that obscures the reality of our true selves, challenging us to fight our way through it? Love the poem, Fred!
You are so right. And then, suddenly, the fog lifts.
Great use of words in this! A very expressive poem
Thank you Shannon, coming from you, this means a lot. Mahalo!
A very expressive way with the enigmatic fingers of the fog. Lovely
Thank you so much. After reading yours and all the other poems, I feel rather inadequate with my penmanship. So your comment is really appreciated.
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