Buried chests


A shrivelling soul frantic searching shrouds
Slim pickings on a night of unrest
The last clue in direction
For gnawing fears at the cycle of life
Closing in on itself and the soul inside
This too shall pass, out in curious crowds
Yet the back to the wall that shouldn’t be there
Afraid, afraid, of nothing to be scared
This too shall be, when its all for the best
This too shall rest on the usual suspects
Please sir, can I have, one more buried chest?

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6 Responses

  1. That is so deep that I don’t get it.

    ~MM – ROTFL, then it is authentic poetry… HAHAHAH!!! There’s an even chance I don’t get it either 😦

  2. I liked that one a lot. The rhythms, the rhymes it really gets dark and tangled in the middle and the ends with a great light image to releave the tension. Very cool poem,

    ~MM – Paul, I hear ya! Thank you lots 🙂 !!!!

  3. Afraid, of nothing to be scared. That happens to me too often. Lovely poem.

    Smile.

    ~MM – Thank you C … And welcome 🙂 !

  4. I’m not afraid but something about the poem made me tingle!
    A little suffocating too… but rich in meaning.

    ~MM – Tingle?… Ok, I’ll take it 🙂 ! Suffocating, yeah, sadly 😦 … Thank you for sharing your thoughts Disturbed Stranger!

  5. I agree with Disturbed Stranger: it brought out my claustrophobia. What inspires your creativity and imagery? I have to know…

    ~MM – I don’t know honestly, Telmcg, its fits and spurts of thought at best. I’ve analyzed it to bits myself and i got nothing 😦 … Thanks for liking it though 🙂 !

  6. wow it really expresses a lot of truth in the world today in a totally creative way. really beautifully written!

    ~MM – Thank you Lainey and welcome to my blog 🙂 …I love your handle!

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