by compound complex 8 Replies latest jw friends
I am going home, yet not without sorrow;
for too long have I been adrift.
There was no place to call my own nor
anyone to take me in.
The price I paid for careless days of youth
spent has been too dear.
I look upward to a welcoming sky that beckons,
reassuring that, soon, this
Wanderer shall be home, in the warm and loving
embrace of the cosmos.
Hey, this is just a poem right? Are you ok?
TB-
Yes, TimeBandit, just a poem. I appreciate your concern.
My time of sorrow has passed; I reread what I have written in expression of former sorrow and am detached from it. Freedom . . . at last.
With gratitude and wishing you and yours well.
CoCo
Sorry CoCo. Right after I posted I saw that there were other poems. I like your poetry btw.
TB-
That's all right, TB. No need to apologize.
When I began posting on several different forums so many years ago, worried posters thought I was a suicidal female. I'm a guy with feet firmly planted on the ground. Well, mostly on the ground . . .
Glad you like the poetry. THANKS!
CoCo
on the land where i was born
was nourishment for the soul of a boy.
streams of vastness and life to discover
creepers and swimmers and slow-pool reflections,
mystique of morels, flight of dragons,
blackberry brambles, gnarls of roots.
a land of poetry indecipherable,
felt but not seen, unknown yet known.
hoot of owl, scream of captured rabbit,
milkweed mating-ground of dancing monarchs,
bones of cow, beckoning ponds,
skating on ice like the wind.
how much these eyes did see there,
what truths did this heart absorb?
apple blossom fragrance, bleat of lamb,
sorrow of dog and car on the road,
love of mother, toil of father
laughter of brothers and sisters.
i go no more
to the land where i was born.
Greetings, Matt:
This is a graphic recollection of an observant child who's become a well-written man. I will reread your words to let them sink in. And read again . . .
Thank you so much for posting.
CC
thanks cc,
and it might have been a touch better if i had been able to edit in the spacing with which
i wrote it, a line break after each six lines. the edit looked good, but would not take....
the setting is my childhood farm in ohio, still inhabited by my mother, brothers, sisters, and
boatloads of nieces and nephews. i am persona non grata in those parts.
You're welcome, Matt!
Thank you for the back story. I'm sorry about the persona non grata element of the story -- the sadly common thread that weaves amongst us all.
Yes, formatting can be a problem; nonetheless, your words read well.
Best regards.
CC
