Splotched Speckles Favourite
ink scratches on paper
tears smudge the words
scribbles and nibbles
for wisdom and love
meanings flow in and out
of consciousness and thought
emote passion and wonderment
a path of no return as it stands
as poets we don’t go but flow
with musings and feelings
reason and reflections
condense and prise open
the poet’s cradle weeps gently
rocks doubts and composure
envelops discards and contains
everlasting impermanent time
weeping willows inhale tears
cosmos flowers shed smiles
weeds become herb gardens
as a tomb stone beckons
in my warm grave I’ll be happy
if mourners wear orange and purple
when my epitaph becomes prologue
and I hand on the pen and a torch
when worms sift through the debris
my coffin rots and gives birth to soil
kind memories may keep me going
and proceed with my journey
26th November 2020
written for the contests 'where do we poets go'
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