Scribbler Of Verses Poet I do not know?

Home

Home


Squirming through my skin, 
moulting once again.

Roots flailing like rotting driftwood, 
bashed upon the merciless shore.

Home awaits the weary traveller, 
to comfort and offer solace.
No home awaits me, 
mere bricks and scattered memories.

Lost in the folds of memory, 
a withered identity beyond recall.

Home.

Long misplaced by the wayside, 
forever gone, vanished in time.

Home.

As skin moults with dreary repetition.

No home, no place of solace.

For I left myself in a half-forgotten alley, 

While I forever trawl for the way home.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

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

Pace Ink-U-Script February 27, 2013 at 12:47 PM This is my second poem I've read of yours...your pen name is awesome and it compliments your work. I'll be reading more of your fine art. Welcome to Poetry Soup....regards INK-U-SCRIPT Scribbler Of Verses February 27, 2013 at 1:15 PM I am humbled, Pace, and I thank you for your warm and kind words. ps: thank you for welcoming this scribbler on-board! Keep well and have a wonderful day/morning/evening :-)