So who are you in wanton state, arrived too early? perhaps too late?, to herd the clowns and lead them on, into oblivion, till they are gone.
The noise of silence is shrill and loud, it breaks you up, not make you proud, arise and take all you are owed, and claim the fruits of what was sowed.
No man, no shrub, no insect, no tree, can ever deny what they will be, who knows the future or what it holds, our destinys revealed as it unfolds.
Hi hi Optimisticme, how's athlone these days? There are a few ways to interpret your poem here, politically or relationship-ly Whichever way you meant it, it's a pretty cool poem.
Hi, optimisticme, I love the mind-sound of The noise of silence is shrill and loud... while holding onto the hope that destiny can be shaped not merely revealed. Thanks for sharing your Mind verse with us.
Comments (2)
politically or relationship-ly Whichever way you meant it, it's a pretty cool poem.
I love the mind-sound of The noise of silence is shrill and loud... while holding onto the hope that destiny can be shaped not merely revealed. Thanks for sharing your Mind verse with us.