Fires of portent grasping
mildewed words
across cluttered mind.
Unseen links drop,
requited not,
rushed makings rest,
deserved fumblings sate,
butting sanity grows less.
Observed clouded rules
bear away fresh set obstacles.
Stumbled quill scratches feverishly,
resulting torment held in shiftless tidings.
No reading commemorates void.
A contest entry
- Winklings Celebrates its 100th Contest (A Series) -Contest B RE-OPENED by Lyndon.
4090 points, ended August 20, 2008, 3 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Okay! I feel as though I've crawled inside the mind of a poet here and it's so descriptive. It's like a running back weaving through lines of verbage engaging some, negotiating and blocking others.
Good write! Thank you for entering this contest.
Paul -
wow very deep i sometimes write along these lines but i have never expressed it so well,
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