Acrostic: Untitled Part 199
© Oct. 25th 2023, Olan L Smith
Untitled scraps in the weeping heaps of junk;
Neither here nor there, simply lost to time and wear
Till such moments when usefulness outweighs worth,
In pieces of scrap, worn down, damaged rags, tatters, and rust.
Towers of decayed metals, bales of old torn to shredded dolls,
Lesser known or forgotten names settled to the bottom of heaps,
Every lost eternities, things become dust, when the magic is gone,
Dead trees, rotting in cold forests of forgetfulness, and tangled synapses;
Pathways are blocked, and no trails are left for old memories to hold together,
Always away from what once turned into rubble. Rotted vines lead
Ruination, piles of ashes, fine lunar regolith, of unlit pathways in memories
Told to forget all, and time removes all parts of the trash, and life is forgotten.
1 is not enough,
9 is the end before starting over,
9 without a 0 leads to nowhere.
YOU ARE READING
Poems from the Quill, by Olan L. Smith
Poetry"Poems from the Quill" is where I place current works that don't fall into other collections. It is here you will find obscure poems that range from constraint to free-verse. I began this collection as a contest entry, years ago, for what was then t...
