Poetry2ponder's Blog

“I have remained (To become myself)” by Trevor Witt

I have remained,
A shadow of my desire,
A fragment of my ambition,
Though I want,
I have not sought,
Though I wish for,
I have not worked for.
I used to associate wanting with lacking,
An older interpretation of the word,
But, as I age, I see my understanding give away,
And I am left striving,
To become myself.

“A new injury (Despite the aches)” by Trevor Witt

A new injury,
Something happened,
I guess,
Getting older,
Does that,
New bruises,
Muscles sore,
So I lay down,
For a few moments,
I remember rest,
Despite the aches.

“The Birds Were The Original Weavers (I Do Not Know)” by Trevor Witt

The birds were the original weavers,
Building baskets as homes,
Up in the trees.

The bees constructed hanging honeycombs,
Utilizing geometry and physics,
Long before Euclid and Aristotle.

And ants have waged war,
And developed hierarchical societies,
Since long before we stopped foraging.

We are newcomers,
Babies, crawling upon the Earth.
What comes next?

Only the Mystery,
The Omnipresent One,
Knows, I

I do not.

“Chocolate, a giant chunk (Scurry on my way)” by Trevor Witt

Chocolate, a giant chunk,
From my pain au chocolat,
Fell to the ground, dirty,
Tiles, like cobblestones,
Outside the cafe,
The thought of picking it up,
Crossed my mind, as did many,
Other thoughts, like eating it,
And getting sick.
But maybe I should
Pick it up, like I am
Picking myself up,
I do not want others
To get sick, like dogs,
Or like squirrels, perhaps I should,
Bury my dropped treasure,
And scurry on my way.