Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Action Poetry

Where hath my love gone?
how do my words lie now?
with no silken promise to gently sway...
too soon the pot has filled
and yearning satisfied
to leave a weary poets song
the weave too tight now
and flesh aches with this new abundance.
Not yet ready for the finality
nt yet ready for craved questions
to be answered
give me my mystery
and a dirty ache,
take not away the thousand passaged route to my being,
Give me new eyes
so i can look again, with fresh yearning.
It is not time, to be done
let not the worries of humanity become my own.
Day, its fickle hold
hath me in tight crucifixtion
bound and tied to this illusionary state
new yearning
new yearning
and how the mighty fall
and are left
with no words at all.