The Brink…an obscure poem

clover-background

THE BRINK

I lost my mind among four-leafed clovers.

Hence, the gnarly, tangled hair.

In search of some luck, over and over,

Needlessly, floundering there.

Heavy with weight like that of the world,

Pushing me down from my grace.

Herald, the sun to shine and unfurl,

This lonely lost soul from this place.

As skin loses pallor so does my will,

Dwindling down further I sink.

Aroma, fresh earth, creatures be still,

Subdued lays my horror… the brink.

Steadfast, my honor, my life wells before me,

A tidal wave of emotion it bears.

Is this the moment most heinous, ignoring,

That which no witness dares share?

Perhaps, as in dream nightmare unfolds,

Enveloping me in barbarity.

Such is the life of a hapless old toad,

Forever, misplaced in obscurity.

Author: What Words May Come

Hopeless romantic; joker; father and grandfather; husband; sportsman; part-time writer;

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.