To him of Truth
Inures wealth of heart.
Wisdom grows its roots
in the sands of time.
I am a free man
given to adventure
when and if I find it,
I pray my passions run amok.
at the core, the common characteristic among us of such disparate views, diverse cultures, and multitude of experiences, is our genius and the universal uniqueness of it.
bare a boy
I ran out of youth
yea, it was then
the running Began
I am bound to eternal restlessness,
Born to shiver in the warmth,
To perspire in the chill.
I stay a child of Saturday for having no more ambition than that.
I wander down roads less traveled for the mysteries are greater there.
Struggling to know one thought profound, never writ nor spoken.
Should I encounter thee, I offer my hand, my smile; lest I remain a stranger forever wonder what passion lies unearthed in thy soul.
I have come from where there are few neighbors to where they are aplenty and I yearn return to where I was before I got back here.
Each one with whom you travel owns a microcosm of your life and though she goes her separate way, your story’s there within her.
Wonderfully penned…the build up the city closing down for the night so distant and then such a personal ending…beautifully done!
Beautifully penned.
Very moving and descriptive write. Well penned. Thanks for your visit.
Pamela
I liked the picture that started to form in my mind, then your last lines shocked me to reality. Well written.
Hi Jeff.
Murky put me in mind of a couple of novels: Camus – the fall
and McCarthy – the road. and yet it feels fresh, contemporary and possibly a neat, compact narrative that encompasses much to ponder and see in the story board.
well written imagery here… and the ending… dark… happens so often these days
Such brilliant imagery – this is truly evocative.
evocative illustration of the darker side of city life..so sad..I was particularly stuck with Jane and her suckling child..the desperation and continuance of life..stark contrast
So moving and descriptive. Wonderful writing!
Yes, this could be NY or any large western city…almost like the ash can school of art…but for poetry. I like it 🙂
that is one gnarled twist ~ M
Ooh, what a sinister ending…unexpected & richly evocative.
I feel a strong sense of place in this. It felt like NY or the New Jersey docks, perhaps somewhere close to the Brooklyn Bridge. But I suppose it could be any big city. I felt the homelessness and a sense of despair. Quite evocative.
Powerful images here. This sticks in the gut like a nice home cooked meal turned sour.
i feel a bit eerie after reading this…but only because its the reality of it….and the surreality of it….sad to see so many as well in need….
I see this just like a blog – like a film in black and white.. the imagery of ashen sky and the struggling mother are very vivid.
ah – you made me see her… it’s an upside down world…and i like how you illustrate it as well with the street lights circling around the moths…