Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Crumpled paper damp with ink, Immortal words washed away in the running stream. The paper breathes longer than I, whats behind longer still, for the same worries I carry are etched in the walls of Pharaoh's grave. When the candle of life is by saliva-wet fingers extinguished, Sighs resound and glances cast at the vacant seat my voice used to occupy. The present man soon dances for the prying eye of Retrospection. A picture printed on the page in many days, full of laughing smiles and vacant gaze of youth gone blank, The Retrospect looks closely, trailing fingers softly over the black white rendition. An all too human fear creeps to mind, and he quickly turns the page.
0
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 8:06 PM UTC
The Study of History is Vanity
Crumpled paper damp with ink, Immortal words washed away in the running stream. The paper breathes longer than I, whats behind longer still, for the same worries I carry are etched in the walls of Pharaoh's grave. When the candle of life is by saliva-wet fingers extinguished, Sighs resound and glances cast at the vacant seat my voice used to occupy. The present man soon dances for the prying eye of Retrospection. A picture printed on the page in many days, full of laughing smiles and vacant gaze of youth gone blank, The Retrospect looks closely, trailing fingers softly over the black white rendition. An all too human fear creeps to mind, and he quickly turns the page.
nasa-nick
Written by
28/M/Tx
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 8:06 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem