Groundling Poem by Gary Witt
Groundling
The muscles in my back have atrophied,
From shoulder blades to ell-five;
If ever I had wings
There is no vestige left.
I am stranded here, walking,
My progress often illusory,
Though my desires recall once circling
High above a wind-swept quarry
Of chiseled, sliced, comforting right angles
Flooded with rain water
And reflecting the deepest blue,
Gently brushed with white.
G - this warrants at least three reads for the deeply personal meaning to resound as smackingly as it warrants; and every sensible reader will go for ten times at least. I LOVE this. In a soothing, pensive, slightly hurty sort of way. t x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/16/2024 2:12:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
touch of melancholy and underpinnings of regret, dreams to be achieved fading. brief verses richly imbued. a sense of accepting a situation. fine work. -Tailor