#175
Climbing into
endless imagination,
a child at play
in his ancestors
home, pulling on carpets,
climbing on couches,
discovering mysteries,
and joys. The Sun rises,
chasing a crescent Moon,
painting the darkness
pouring from its palette.
My breath is still.
#176
Oh, to the great treasures
of the road, the breeze,
the friendships,
her name was Ophelia
and she sang to my oceans
in the middle of the desert,
a concert of smiles.
#177
Just being here,
in the shadows,
surrounded by mystery
and adventure.
My mind silenced
my soul still.
still
still
still.
still here.
#178
While it’s a joy
to fill these pages
i hold a fear, now,
to fill my memories further.
What joys and glories
lay dormant or forgotten,
howling within me,
for i am a fed man,
complaining of being
full.
#179
i ride
their roads,
but,
i make my own path.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write