Inside whichever hollow crevice, bare of fruit in pyrrhic strife -
Concluded to wither out, as if hastening on.
You must devour, encumbered by your masque.
Do not fret, our somber - dour; extemporary fledge -
The Urge shall arrive and after, pass.
Ichor, sodium, cinnabar paste atop an opulent display,
Feeding many of a kind in more ways than one.
That there is a mountain, simmering in bone,
Made out as: "Tiny foretelling", a harbinger of what's to come.
To "Hope" is a bitter concept, yet "Hope" is frailer still.
Naming home the place that your prior beliefs had forbade:
Relish in savory blubber - the urge;
In due course, will wane.
-
Author:
Nicholas Browning (
Offline) - Published: March 14th, 2018 06:41
- Comment from author about the poem: Chew some gum, watch a movie. Hang out with some friends or just play some games. Relax and take a deep, calm breath. The urge will fade anyways :D
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: marlenawood
Offline)
Comments5
Every line had me revited. - I love best the final stanza. First class writing Nicholas.
Thank you very much, Fay. I'm glad you liked it in some way.
A bit cryptic for (uncultured?) me, but a good write.
Meanwhile - oohh, if I hear of an 'urge' I feel a swoon coming on! heehee.
Hey Orch. Haha, you're funny. Thanks for stopping by!
Oohh, knock me down with a feather! Must I always assume it is that always type of 'urge'?! heehee.
Felt really absorbed by your word. Left my mind ticking off nicely, thank you
You're very welcome sir. Thank you as well.
Super language use and a great write.
Super duper my friend. Thank you.
Very well an enjoyable indeed!
Thank you very much. I'm glad you enjoyed.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.