monkey on my back
March 9, 2011
with every syllable here written
my life burns away
a mark, a fake, a stand-in
left by my inidling hands,
my silhouette, an outline
stays staring in my place
growing more distinct
as I fade into the dark,
as my energy is spent,
as it is read and written
by concerned parties
seeking me
for what intent or purpose I
I do not know
though
I do fear I might
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lovely delivery of your sentiments,
Cheers.
Happy Wednesday.
A++
love how the title which is the real gist of the poem is not included into the body.. sets it apart from many i have read! my potluck- http://fiveloaf.wordpress.com/2011/03/08/nectar-from-heaven/
really intriguing piece, liked it for its honesty and the 4rth line–think it was meant to be “idling hands”?
Keep writing.Take care
nice one!
You have beautifully expressed that internal struggle that we feel searching for the life’s purpose.
you’ve missed the point
it was
that we human
are eclipsed
by the electronic
and that it
is not accountable to us
if you search for life’s purpose on the internet you will quickly lose sight of it – because choice and human connection are what gives life meaning, and the tv, telephone, and internet keep us separate from each other, contrary to the way that they are presented
divine message…
keep it up.
Welcome joining poets rally week 40,
all submissions will be fully represented by the end of the week,
visit me for details today.. hope to see you in..
Cheers.
Happy Writing..
xx