When I walk
my eyes catch stones,
I sense
the pungent smells
of moss
that slowly creeps
over the tufts
of grass
that dare to grow
between footfalls,
those who came
and went.
My calves ache,
callous tissue
temps to turn me,
but it can‘t
and I won‘t twist reliance
to need of blistered words
for all the parchment
strewn
across countless trails;
I have built bridges,
burned cities,
crawled across
too many dirt roads
wishing better words
would somehow release me
to ever give up trying.
To ever stop searching
poignant justification
to this existence,
meaningful
and yet reduced
to pointless pondering
of the same
shallow breath.
The air is thin,
fewer trees of distraction
realize
the steeper grade
and harder climb
reaches only rock
left in places
even the moss
has found reason
to turn back from
and there are
growing patches
of white forgetfulness;
learning
what lies beneath
has lost importance.
When the summit
accepts me,
I will look down
within everyday
hearts
searching
recognition
and up
into the blue
dissecting unknown
exposed as I can be.
And perhaps,
I will have exhausted
my words,
a sweet silence,
a piecemeal merit
of some beacon
somewhere to someone
and just once,
along
all these lines
of convoluted text
stood a forerunner
instead of a follower
placing notes
in the bindings.
In a list
A contest entry
- Immortal (For Marc Creamore) by just rob.
40000 points, ended November 22, 42 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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This is a very well written piece; your words ,they flow so eloquently...and the images you paint with those words are vivid, full of life and color. I also enjoy the style in which you write and especially like the stanza that says, "I have built bridges, burned cities, crawled across too many dirt roads, wishing better words would somehow release me to ever give up trying."...Your writing is full of emotion and this has certainly left a "heart print" on mine...You have a talent...Keep on writing!
Best wishes to you!
~Travis -
i love this best of luck in this contest honestly i randomly picked your poem to read because i like to read a contestants work before i enter a contest to see how easy it was for them to do a great job that being said this is a wonderful piece and anything i write now would be pale in comparison to your fine work bravo i hope you win the gold
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well done
a three-reader
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beautiful.
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Yes ...
I would say that Wanda is right. Remarkable strikes right in the Gold. Nothing more to add to that since that says it all.
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This is a remarkable piece, Ken...written in the paint you mix so well with the clarity of the ink you spill. Rob and Marc are both among the forerunners you've mentioned in this wondrous piece of work, I believe. Perhaps our words are all that will remain of us, but it will be the heart within them that glistens brightest of all. Good luck in the contest, Scribe.
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lAYER UPON LAYER OF BEAUTIFULLY WOVEN ART..THIS IS BREATHTAKING
THANKS
T
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passion
it seems even as we grow weary, we walk on and on...
seems passion has a mind of it own
wounds are open and exposed,
left in places
even the moss
has found reason
to turn back from
beautifully written
God bless you my friend...
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OH my. This is beautifully written. Your poem flows beautifully through words, through life. Acceptance - defeat. Immortality in the realization of words that remain fresh within the bindings.
Well done. ~Pamela
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