Poem -
wild suns
What becomes us
our faces like old maps
Lined
with journeys that took us
Nowheres
and somewheres
To junctions and corners to
mansions
and old sheds
Have we not run
with fine winds and
Oft times been led
By wild suns
but still, here we are
Back where they said
ragged and ice burned
Wise yet so silently dead
M ~
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Comments
Marion dear, this is magnificent.
It really is. B
Hey B... thanks for your kindness... hugs X
Age doesn't Matter. Unless You Are a Cheese. Great Write. 🙂
😆😆😆😆 thankyou lol x
Thank you for the reflections Marion.
Have a safe and wonderful weekend.
Thankyou Wilford... so sorry for late rey x
Such extraordinary talent you have. Your magic ink never fails to draw me in to your poetry. This poem is truly exquisite. It is direct and tough, like old weather worn skin and yet, at the same time it is as vulnerable as a brand new baby. There is both defiance and sadness here. Some truly brilliant lines and an ending that grabs and doesn't let go. I love this poem. Here's a bucket 🪣 and here's some stars 🌟 (one of many) to fill it with xx
Tina... thankyou... a beautiful comment and you are so very very kind X
Absolutely stunning dearest Marion. 🌹
Thanks love sorry for late reply x
Dear Lady Marion,
This is a most depth-filled work, as we all quest for sunrises, but oft times they become sunsets. Yet, we persevere.
Peace and love,
Larry xxx
Thanks so much Larry ..sorry for late reply x
Aye, too often one finds that after all wanderings, still in the centre of the heart there are hurts that came along or lured you back to where you started from. Love the Wild Suns...
Thanks so much John.. sorry fir late rey x