A mind forever voyaging through strange seas of
Thought, alone...
ALONE...
Reverberated
From a book of
poetic wonders
Bequeathed to
me
ALONE....
I wander
Wonder at the
philosophy
Through a
meandering maze
Amidst
circumstances and people, yet
ALONE....
I Wind
through myriad emotions
Knowing not
how to be
Inside out?
Or separate the
form for outside
From ME...
Draining me,
sometimes...
ALONE...
Seeking
company in the book
Holding on to
hope
I trudge for
momentum
ALONE...yet
Not lonely,
perhaps
I clutch the book close to my chest
The heart
never stops
On the
biological clock
Then why did
I...?
On that
little square thing ticking away on the wall
There are
lessons to be learnt
If I learn to
listen and listen to learn
To be, not to
be too
To do, and
not to do too
With time my
hair has lost shine
Yet glows
with wisdom, I find
A few black
strands remain
Raising a
toast to the spirit of this voyage
That never
misses an exclamation – LIFE!
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Love all of your poem - especially the last stanza! Every day I feel like I'm trying to learn to listen and listen to learn! The "few black strands remain" made me smile, as I see the gray coming through mine more and more!
ReplyDeleteWith a book one is never alone. Love the line about hair losing shine but glowing in wisdom. Life really IS quite a voyage, isn't it?
ReplyDelete" With time my hair has lost shine
ReplyDeleteYet glows with wisdom, I find
A few black strands remain
Raising a toast to the spirit of this voyage
That never misses an exclamation – LIFE!"--Wow! Love this concluding part...wonderful :D
This is a wonderful testament to the power of books, or poetry, to be companions of the soul.
ReplyDeleteVery much like the poetry of wordsworth. Beautifully penned.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful piece with a powerful close.
ReplyDeleteI can totally relate to this lovely poem. Thank you. (Except that Wordsworth is not one of my favourites, lol. But that's just my idiosyncrasy. I am glad he gives so much to you. and many others.)
ReplyDeleteThank you for this. Books are the security blankets of adults. I used to sit in the stacks at the library and ponder the vastness of knowledge and wisdom surrounding me. Often a whole book of poetry overwhelms me. Each poem seems to demand all my attention and I'm afraid that I'm missing something by moving on to the next. Others require that I read the book through in order to see the over-riding theme and how the individual poems work together as a whole. All these feelings seemed to come out for me in your poem along with the way solitude influences.
ReplyDeleteWe are never alone when we hold a book or pen to write. Wonderful piece!!
ReplyDelete