One "too young" to write a poem

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Candid words are all you need.
A wine bibber's carafe
rainbow colours clarify;
astute ears ratify -
satisfied yawning
suspicion:
inward rivers gush,
undulate to the surface -
sweat thaws frozen brows.

Awkward ripples rouse
unbidden eloquence,
reverberates without escape;
all the while sinking back,
twiddling proverbial digits:
unwritten poems, silted dreams
settle in the sand.

 

 

 

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Reviews

[Robert Haigh]

Ah, we all have some unwritten poems which have never seen the light of day, Frederick! Sometimes fragments can be rescued. I started keeping pencil and paper by my bedside because I had verse forming in my head during the small hours, only to be lost by the time I got up!

A well-crafted poem, my friend! I'm sure all poetry writers can relate to this!

[Red Brick Keshner]

Thanks, Robert. Sometimes one can’t help thinking they are more than just mere words and the feeling of loss is quite real. And writing ✍️ in total darkness also has its challenges and hilarious outcomes! Thanks for your engaging response. /Frederick.

[MartinK]

I love the colorful words. Like if each line would have belonged to its small herd. And the image of "sweat thaws frozen brows" is self-standing for the scenery in it.

[Red Brick Keshner]

Martin, that is quite splendid that you point that out. “a small herd” is quite an engaging descriptive phrase and makes me glad they are heard. You are most appreciated. /Frederick.

[Jessica M.]

"dreams settle in the sand"
love the imagery
and words, amazing words.
You have a great vocabulary.