Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
artur-1Poems
I walk upon the pathless plains, A stranger to this ancient field. I see others walking with canes And I desperately refuse to yield. I see roses bloom and their Lovely thorns speak of doom. Further on I see roses undressed- Their petals dead, Carried on by the wind. I see babes grown and wed, Snatched from their mother’s loving breast. And I carry on with my stroll, Lest I be carried away with the petals, By the blowing winds. Then I hear my father’s laugh, No longer full of heart, But full of dust, And a longing makes its nest Within my ageing soul. I see a pond ahead And its waters reflect a face My mother has not kissed in years. It all wells up within me; The fears of childhood past conjure up, And the knight with the burning sword, Does not ride out to save me. A stranger born Into this strange garden. I adorn the crown of fools; Everything I have wished for has come to pass, And that is my greatest curse. Can’t I have one more dance? One ephemeral moment With the fleeing wilderness Of youth?
0
Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 4:43 PM UTC
Crown of fools
I walk upon the pathless plains, A stranger to this ancient field. I see others walking with canes And I desperately refuse to yield. I see roses bloom and their Lovely thorns speak of doom. Further on I see roses undressed- Their petals dead, Carried on by the wind. I see babes grown and wed, Snatched from their mother’s loving breast. And I carry on with my stroll, Lest I be carried away with the petals, By the blowing winds. Then I hear my father’s laugh, No longer full of heart, But full of dust, And a longing makes its nest Within my ageing soul. I see a pond ahead And its waters reflect a face My mother has not kissed in years. It all wells up within me; The fears of childhood past conjure up, And the knight with the burning sword, Does not ride out to save me. A stranger born Into this strange garden. I adorn the crown of fools; Everything I have wished for has come to pass, And that is my greatest curse. Can’t I have one more dance? One ephemeral moment With the fleeing wilderness Of youth?
#personal#time#childhood
Written by
artur-1
Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 4:43 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem