Mysteries By The Bank

Can't make meaning of these listless days
I just buoy by the banks
And when the heat's too great
I just simply recede
The unending dream of what I need
Lately, it's been a pluck through flowers
Wild daisies blooming through the bush
As she radiates against this grey
I can't wade towards sense as to what you bring to the day.

Then there are phases I take, spiral through the book of guilts; flowers that wilted for the words I failed to give.... truths I longed but failed to reflect; as I ponder upon your life through this place, sadly could only take as weeds to choke out any sense.

My pride; he's vicious, I meet him through mirrors, each encounter only a deepening mystery, a combat of rivalling dualities and you drag me through the void.

The enveloping darkness only deafens my pleas, your language only meted out through boots & fists, each blow & kick, each lessened reciprocal of pained gasps & tired breaths assures by the death of each bout I'm only further lost, piece by piece, do I succumb or is it ones vicious truth come alive, as once I reawaken to mirrors with angry eyes?

How many faces can I seek to understand
Understand who I am
Or is it where I'm at
And once the season ends
Will each reflection simply pale & break
Into shards no wiser history could thread
Frankly for plenty of us
We won't know what's true of us
When they call our name.

About this poem

A reflection of modest regrets.

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Written on January 24, 2021

Submitted by Banks_Cassablancas on October 04, 2022

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:21 min read

Quick analysis:

Closest metre Iambic octameter
Characters 1,370
Words 264
Stanzas 5
Stanza Lengths 9, 1, 1, 1, 9

Samuel Koome

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All Samuel Koome poems | Samuel Koome Books

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