Here is another revisit for the Poetry Train Riders. Funny, the one line I spent time rethinking, is usually the one people love. We’ll see…
Don’t forget to take a ride on Rhian’s Monday Poetry Train!
Subterranean Thought
Ground dweller,
Seeking answers
In the landscape of being.
Trapped under a canopy
Of idealism.
Unfold a repertoire
Gone yellow and brittle.
Skim the middle words.
A foray, one might think
Into something new.
Spend the afternoon hours
Immersed,
In the mysticism of a carrot.
Embracing the solid rhythm
Of idleness.
Focus on the gnawing,
Empty ache,
Until it splinters
In a display of glistening chaos
To reveal a voiceless whisper.
One glimpse
Of raw, unadulterated insight.
Not something new,
But excavated, ancient
And long forgotten.