Prodigal Roar


What is this constant
longing for more, this storing
of treasure and time in rush
-ing pickpocket drums.

When will we learn to find
our quiet worth
……….(our sacred birth)
(our centered earth)
beyond these gravel taverns,
save our grieving
candles for a setting
………………………………sun.

.
Whirligiggled.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to Prodigal Roar

  1. Really like how you use enjambment to draw us through this beautiful poem.

  2. Gorgeous!

    “Whirligiggled.” 🙂 You’re such a cutie!

  3. DELL CLOVER says:

    Oh My, that’s good!

  4. Enough is the word we need to learn. Love that first stanza.

  5. oldegg says:

    I love the truisms that are sprinkled throughout the piece and applaud the ease with which this poem reads.

  6. Pingback: DamAge | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  7. Cressida says:

    You used the words seamlessly and the brevity makes an impact. Well done !

  8. Mr. Walker says:

    Lovely. I will be thinking “our quiet worth” much in the coming days – and reciting it.

  9. peggygoetz says:

    Enjoyed reading this as well as the first poem the link took me to!

  10. magicalmysticalteacher says:

    “When” is one of those words in any language that often stirs up our anxieties. When will we learn? Today? Tomorrow? Surely by next week! But the years pass, and we keep failing the lessons…

Use your words.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.