Again, I Might Be Still
Arboreous green growing inside the fance
contrasting the gray of concrete walls,
scars, caught in childness;
Broken buckets disting the field rounded by
reminiscences in pieces like broken promises
useless like me around the pavement;
Why can't I learn from the forewoman?
lessons write within' our flooded pages;
A bird that was not taught how to swing
cannot high up the sea;
Again, I might be still when the shadow pain
would allow me against the will;
Three ways I can vare from it but none
covered the need like the forewoman will;
Skinny Birds at the sky adding ardour
balancing the paraview
Small as they are.. why can't I have such
weight, for not to burden at the forelady's
packs.
Copyright © Quiet Speaker | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment