November 4
In the mists which endless swirl
Basking my soul in shadows rich
Inwardly I wander, being unfurl
Watching, never seeing.
Cannonballs go crashing in
Launched from many passing ships
Senses dulled and watchful still
Ever waiting, not seeing.
I pray to breezes wafting by
A tickle, a tease, little more
I whisper words with an earnest sigh.
Hopeful yet, and blind.
Stay in your cell, the ancient monk once said.
All it will teach, if you go nowhere.
So stay I have, not far from my bed
I listen for the words it may share.
Scratches on the shiny knob
Suggest it is not with patience.
Going through a folder on my laptop named “writings”. Found this poem. The date on the file says I wrote it this past January. The content suggests it’s a bit older. I’m not really a poet, just thought I’d post it.
Posted by Patrick under writing
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