If Nothing Else: by Wes Thompson

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If Nothing Else:

I read from many books
of many a great man
made immortal by
a magic stream of words
that tie together such beautiful simplicity:
a cloudy day
the rising sun
a setting moon
a forest of ashen tree
and sometimes within
exists a haunting relic
of emotion
that creeps to bed
with any so unlucky to
fall under such
a wondrous curse
and though I love
each and every rhyme or
flawless meter
I ponder
deep down
if I too could become
immortal
but I fear that I am too
late
the great ones all
long dead
and perhaps
such a wounding fear will
bleed the necessary ink
to stumble beneath my pen
and frame me
forever
within the page
that vessels such a simple brilliant act as:
golden ripples on a pond
a flower without a scent
the starless sky
a cold-handed lover
and maybe
some starry-eyed romantic
will genuflect to
the curse I have invoked
and dream of the
glorified death
of an ancient one
a great one
who wrote such immortal ink
that leaves him
sleepless
at night

Wes Thompson

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Agnes Török (8/1/2007 4:27:00 PM)
We all dream of imortallity, but if you keep this up you might just get there. It is through not writing for the sake of writing good that your poems get better and your creativity increases. To me, it's when I write simply because I love the writingprocess in itself that also the result becomes loveble.
But you sure have done a great job with this one.

Scarlett Treat (4/16/2007 12:03:00 PM)
Your phrasing here is beautiful.

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Wes Thompson ( Columbus, Ohio)