In times so lost

There seems to be frost where I find

Myself wrestling with words in allegory

Or in a toss up of alliteration and iteration

I commit to persuasion

Viewing my literary skills as an arch

Of momentum prospering what adheres to me

And benefitting others that sing on occasion

To their own tune

Today I remark on pleasure as I embark on new territory

What measures me most is the way I impose

On my own laughter in between what stages

The next page.

It’s plausible

This series of undoubted strength with wisdom

 ideally set in the reign of the wind

So how can I feel warm?

I ask myself

 in warning of completing my fable

Is it not in the persuasion I offer myself

Contending in the next plot

Of words that conceive the page

So why do I battle with what rattles me the most?

Bring to me the completion of my arch

Hand me the truth behind how I march

It is not only in forming the new

But giving into the infinity of words

That seem to be giving the ring it’s tale.

Unfolding is the sentiment of what once was the mold of

An amateur, now seems to value itself

As matchless

Now my pen is hot and it’s patched with the sun


Posted by in Poetry