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Click hereI see you there, sitting on a bench,
wrapped tight in polyester and down,
staring out at the naked branches
of trees torn bare by winter’s breath,
and I feel your discontent, your angst,
the boiling within your core
that begs you each day to do something different,
go somewhere warm, feel the dry wind
which scatters desert dust,
touch the hair of a woman and
watch it glisten beneath your hand.
And I think we’re not so different, you and I,
both soldiers trapped within a war
that neither of us understands. There is
only wind, and rain, and the constant caress
of hands we do not know, and we are
cold without the light we crave, the warmth
of a summer whose power will cast away
the lonely lies we tell ourselves each day,
the words we live by, our mantras,
which keep us sane, and so we wish
for the brightness of a place far from here.
The never-ending quest for
Tranquility and the greener grass
No matter how good {or bad} the
Circumstances...
I enjoyed this poem very much as well as your other posting today.
I’ve read this three times, trying to figure out why I cannot enthusiastically endorse this work as a superb poem. It is well written. The words are not trite. The imagery is strong and clear. . . but there is something about the poem that prevents me from becoming emotionally involved with it. Perhaps it is the “telling” style, though there is plenty of “showing” too. – I enjoyed this work, but I guess it is more an excellent piece of prose than a poem to my ear.
Thank you for the read. Please keep writing.