Man of the world, a rare bird still
Out in this vain world, treading my lone trail,
I fall, find feet, firm up my feeble stake,
And try again a better me to make,
In marketplace but never once for sale.
With enough love in heart for all to draw,
An avid pond I am, no settled lake
Content with scarce, no world breeze can me shake--
A pond, never of a huge oceans’ awe.
In this world vying daily with new breeze,
I just try-- be a man made but by me--
A task no simple still to turn with ease,
So, it’s fair to feel way-lost in the sea,
Come forward then, wish wind-speed to my sail,
To help me sail to my least-trodden trail.
____________________________________
Sonnet | 03.12.2004, revised September 2024|self, world
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
