Poetry is my memory
A distance cloud of words unspoken
The reality is one I hide
Behind the noise of the one who tries
Know me and speak the darkened tile
For the people that pass are that of glass
Easily broken under the wind of the world
Shattered across the ground, leaving the ravens to pick
The sound of chattering, voices of all
So do the small make so much noise
Do the large ones say goodbye
These shoes of mine need a cleaning
The ground I walk is that of mud
Smearing the once white sole
Do they grasp at control
Seeing the meaning behind the preachers word
Only a few every do
I wish to step into the world spoken of love
Life and sorrow
Do I not know the fleetingness of being hollow
Surely not the crowd speaks
Of a place outside that sounds strikes
Upon this black I do sit
As the world passes judgement on it
Staring at the lovely colours
Makes the mind wonder what is it with the drummer
Words of praise in the distance
Creeping into the safe non existence
She spoke to me and made me unsure
Of the life lived
Such a blur
YOU ARE READING
The Poetry Gripe
PoetryWelcome to a collection of poems I've written over the years. Some are a true delve into meaning and life. While others struggle with love and strife. The path ahead is not so easy. Please be careful reader, the mind is not so easy.
