Deep
Is it irony who dictates the
Intrusiveness of solitude?
Do never ending always
Contain all but nothing?
Finding that as the pulling quench of
Frozen madness drags helpless
Upstream against the filial tears
Flow spaces further with us � sufficient?
Sometimes wondering long and
Thoughtful whence you came,
Whom you here so loud and
Why?
Closing my eyes, blind to talking,
Choking on seeds you had left;
No more you�re there to teach me
Letter writing: all shut the doors
Lending your solace.
� Joseph Tradescent
Poems
Home
Add message to Message Board
View Message Board
Contact details!
Review the Terms and Conditions
