Shall I stand?


  • Sadness

    Shall I stand?

    On this stippled, sandy shore,
    Sounds of the sweeping surge
    Grab at my thoughts once more.

    The threat is to lift me from my under-toe,
    Toward the now of drink-in-hand -
    Swaying, swelling, from the bleak I know.

    So I must stand and stare it down,
    Before my memories splash to surface -
    Slice and slash me, pound by pound.

    And all my agonies flow once more,
    In sounds of sobbing surge -
    down my stippled, freckled shore.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    quietlypoetic’s Poems (6)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Shall I stand? 0
    Last Act Thief 0
    Continuation I 0
    Play full 0
    The Lover 1
    Wanderloss 0