Pondering the human plight, this curse that is existence,
I’m painfully aware my meager words mean naught,
yet still wishing they could somehow make a difference
maybe even lend someone a warm and happy thought.
Liquid desire streams, scribbling impotent hieroglyphics;
remember as you read this jaunt, the answer lies within.
Forgive me, for I do not mean to be pontific
but much can be accomplished with hard work and discipline.
Alas these words are just so trite, I flounder in frustration—
I’ll never pen the perfect phrase or write the sweetest prose,
instinctively recording my descent into damnation,
dipping in the inkwell as my lifeblood slowly flows.
Are You Reading Me?
My thought is that you're not nearly so impotent as you'd lead us to believe. That you can inspire even a single comment directed toward the subject is proof, in and of itself, that you do make a difference... and I thank you for it.
ReplyDeleteSomeday everyone in the future will look at your work and declare you a genius; these eyes of the past don't open until later on.
ReplyDeleteYou've definitely come a long way since that day! If you still believe it you're the only one that does!
ReplyDeleteWe all reach for the correct words and most time don't make it, but trying is the thing... You're closer to the goal than most - thanks
ReplyDeleteI find that you write with great humility, albeit egocentric (I mean that philosophically), that gives your poetry a unique flare. Your writing is very personal yet universal. Great stuff.
ReplyDeleteI'm speechless as you are all too kind, absolutely correct, but much too kind ;)
ReplyDeleteAs Shirley notes this is quite old, just feeling a bit down this week, thanks for these truly uplifting comments my friends! :)
bye
ReplyDelete