Those borne from foothills of a soul
And borrowed air as makeshift transit
The stolen time from oxygen
Inhaled and set as veins in marble
Unlike each whispered, echoed word
It sat, unmoved, unfurrowed counsel
While only lost penumbra stirred
A heartbeat peppered fractured quiet
There's nothing blowing in the wind
Then senses pricked by cacti needles
All cursed their lucky solitude
The dumbest nurture untold knowledge
Mobility is just cement
The torture of my mountain's fortune
Solutions aren't by accident
The answer isn't on a matchbox
It can't be found among parched clouds
Or hidden betwixt the leaves of trees
Nor snaking dust around the scrub
My mountain sage stood fast in silence
And truth no nodding head betrayed
The foetus of my wisdom crowning
With innocence once more decayed
6 comments:
Its hard to find the answers when you dont know the questions to ask
Mountain has something, a seed of potential, evident in the odd word or phrase. Largely, however, it’s nonsense. It’s much better much than Blueprint (in pencil), though and certainly a departure from your usual style. The older poems are in an altogether different class, being generally very good.
Thank you, "anonymous". What do you mean by "older" poems? What do you know of these things?
I mean the poems you’ve posted on here in the past. I don’t know any more than anybody else, these last two just weren’t as accessible (to me) as the older ones.
Have to say that I have found it difficult to understand these at all, and I loved a few of the earlier posted ones. But then again I don't claim to be an intellectual.
At the end of the day, if they mean something to you and you enjoy them, that is the most important part of writing, and blogging them.
Sits drumming fingers impatiently...!
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