Tilling For a Songless Song
In the mazy thicket of thoughts I search
With the fork of foresight on cloudy march
I pick meaningless pebbles from eerie plane
Meaning hisses at the futile chase of fussy lane
All doorsteps lintel-ling and leading to the most sought clue
none is rock and rilled across anthers of the age-long hue
Yet, life minstrels museless must trudge through the parks
Crowded by thorough thronging noisome marks
I must search for missing meaning along this boulevard
Of naked plumes wishing, waiting for the rush-roller yard.
ii
In the mazy marble of thoughts we search
With the fork of foresight on clueless march
We pick meaningless pebbles from eerie plane
Meaning hisses at the futile chase of limpid lane
All doorsteps lintel-ling and leading to the most sought clue
None is rock and riled through thronging of the age-long hue
Yet, life minstrels museless must trudge through the parks
Crowded by thorough darting noisome marks
We must search for missing meaning along this boulevard
Of naked plumes wishing, waiting for the rush-hour yard
Waiting all along
Tilling for a songless song
Copyright © Ndubuisi Martins | Year Posted 2015
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