Lawrence Sharp Poet Free verse

A Trance, Almost

I dwell not within,
gaze not beyond,
but compromise precisely on the shell.

Scratch the earth,
soil under my nails,
while quickly the surface refills behind me
and hardens itself before me.

Stain my fingers green,
pull the weeds,
yet audaciously they grow right back
or grow fiendish thorns as I approach.

Wage losing war,
battle the cold, hard steel,
blacken my hands with the grease and oil
of a myriad stubborn engines.

I dwell not within,
gaze not beyond,
but compromise precisely on the shell.

The fruitless struggle fritters my youth.

16th May 1998

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Charles Messina August 1, 2018 at 7:07 AM Excellent write, Lawrence! Fantastic imagery that I can relate to. All the best...Charlie Lawrence Sharp August 1, 2018 at 9:38 AM Thanks Charles, I'm glad you like it. The Stetson is properly cool, by the way.

Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart July 19, 2018 at 8:35 PM A rumble within reading this. Excellent piece. xomo Lawrence Sharp July 22, 2018 at 2:57 AM Thank you, please rumble.

Richard Lamoureux July 18, 2018 at 9:01 AM Exceptional imagery. I see you have been writing for a long time. Lawrence Sharp July 18, 2018 at 11:27 AM Thanks Richard, all of your comments have been very welcoming and welcome. I value such positive feedback from a stalwart such as yourself.