Monday, September 23, 2013

(Just a little sad poem for the quixotic few)

~Lessen in Value~

Poetry I wish is what I want to write,
Of life or death or fire in the moonlight, 

But never words of flair I find are there;
I may wind up in a long starry eyed stare.

Love and hate and there at heavens gate, 
Where are those words I need...too late! 

Poetry I wish is what I want to write, of
Cool springs and greens and human insight.

But for me the word is where I wither. 
And here I sail alone down flounder river.  

As depth is never bound nor darkness sound, 
These words too are bound to never be found. 

And when finally played out and placed deep
Into the ground do not leave not even a mound. 
                                      
                                                            ~Jack Henry Kraven~

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