Skip to main content

Zeniths


In the words of a poem my speech may be impaired|

Captured dictations slither in to your skin|

Phases wrapped in phrases|

Ridicules left behind in praises|

But we stride and march beyond the line|

Perhaps My words will one day make emotional zeniths for you to climb|

Helping you see the forgotten lands you left behind|

And explore the new purlieus that await beyond|

Comments

  1. I think these are hopes we all cherish when we compose poems or prose.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Inside Your Hands

Parables fumble in unprepared hands| Deprived of gifts bestowed to thee| As humans we seek shelter beneath a tree| When our feet become weak| And our needs extend beyond our means| As rain pours| It cleanses our soul| Dormant ideas start to grow| Yet we turn a blind eye| To what's before our sight| Taking the easy way| Shunning plights| Fighting is not a physical ordeal| It's more of a rejection to extol the almighty rule| Exploring alternatives to fables disguised as facts| Letters shredded in half| Eulogies embedded on a golden calf| The story was written for you to digest| The ending inside your hands| Inside your thoughts is the rest|

Spoken Word

A word once spoke is only heard through an opening in a cracked wall| Shrunk in the balance| Within strings moving from the wind's hold| Escaping push| Reinforced from strength of vibrations from a secluded silence|