Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

GET THEE TO A MONASTERY

GET THEE TO A MONASTERY

I'm no Trappist monk
Not this hunk
But  you see
My days of wild are wilding down.
I've given too much of me
Left with a torn soul
A heart broken many times and more.
I'm weary of the game
Sadly the same as the one before.
No lyrics to sing to.
No music to dance to.
Strange  melancholy
This.

 

 

— Geremia, Jul 13, 2009

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: USA

More from this author

Critiques

yenti

yenti

16 years 10 months ago

Longo

You have written a sad piece that cries the tears of the ages, you have asked to much of your own ways and those of others will fall in with your askings. Let us hug a tree hold the smile of a child in our hearts and walk with people that have only love in their hearts... You can only then know that what you have done over all the Earth years was not in vain. You have learned of many ways to be hurt in this piece and how to hold onto them. I find that if I have a thorn in my hand, then it is better to bear the pain for a fleeting moment to dig it out, then carry on. I hope I have read this correctly if not please let me know, Yours Ian.T My days of wild are wilding down..... Did You mean Winding????
Geremia

Geremia

16 years 9 months ago

Thanks

J.B. Longo-Geremia I did mean "wilding down" == play on "wild"/ Thru pain . poetry== of sorts. joe