Rocking chair sway
Here I stand again
Glued to the highest point
Stuck once more at the zenith
Where lip presses firm against tile
Complicated elements
I have lost myself again
Silent at the pinnacle
Cool and snug at the summit
And I am unrecognisable and fractious and glib
4 comments:
Howdy blogger friends, I look forward to reading your posts :)
Scrybe,
It is good to see you here. Glad that you joined this interesting poetic session.
The feeling of movement is captured in a skilful way. Fine poem. Thank you for your contribution!
I feel like in a maze when reading this.
Is zenith superior to a burrow?
Skybe,
I have seen your comments elsewhere, and am so glad to finally add my admiration to so many others.
Being me, I can't help but feel your words to beckon with a potential energy, "silent at the pinnacle" of "the zenith" of a rocking chair.
Some, among us, have never been nursed during such complicated elements. Some of us, among us, were never born on a real slave ship.
But all alive, might be said to be cool and snug at the summit...
God bless the glib. God bless the glib.
Thank you.
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