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Of acceptance

Jeremy1012Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
edited December 2006 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
In that instant,
1st December 2006,
Resigned, but
Saddened a little,
I discovered that I was not a poet
But a scoundrel. A phony.
Perhaps I am a little harsh,
Maybe.
One can hope I suppose,
That one might be wrong.
I shall keep writing,
If only for the relaxation aspect.
"I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • FinsburyParkCarrotsFinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    I really liked your other poem! It shows the influence of your reading, but I can hear your real poetic voice there, too. Scoundrel, my foot. :)
  • Jeremy1012Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
    FinsburyParkCarrots wrote:
    I really liked your other poem! It shows the influence of your reading, but I can hear your real poetic voice there, too. Scoundrel, my foot. :)
    hehe, your kind words mean a lot to me fins :) to be honest this was just a reactionary thing when I couldn't think of anything of worth to write earlier. I have this constant love/hate thing with my writing. this morning I just felt like it was pointless. perhaps I was wrong. :D
    "I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
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