Never friends: People who you would
Have liked, That may have liked you.
That have either passed away,
Or simply stopped writing.
This sounds contrite.
Like the writing of someone ,
I'd like call a never friend.
I cannot write from the middle,
It's difficult to write
When you know the end.
Yet the stories about Addis,
Come to me in time.
Like a lost passage,
About the son of adam.
That I myself cannot fathom,
Or that I myself dare to write.
Often I wonder who put the words,
In my mind's eye about fantasy's.
I might not ever conceive,
During the hours of daylight.
That I neither trust or believe,
Often come to me during the night.
Words that come together,
Stick in my gut like floods of tears,
Entering my mind over many a year.
With no sure beginnings,
Definitely no middle let alone an end.
Yet here am I home scribbling alone,
Like the master of words.
Sometimes to short sometimes to long,
Writing about the death of a forgotten song.
Another imaginary fable that doesn't belong,
Will I ever finish it with no beginning.
Middle or end only time will tell,
My long gone but never forgotten.
Stan cooper one of my many never friends
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 91 times
Written on 2022-12-29 at 21:21
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Have liked, That may have liked you.
That have either passed away,
Or simply stopped writing.
NEVER FRIENDS
When I start to write,This sounds contrite.
Like the writing of someone ,
I'd like call a never friend.
I cannot write from the middle,
It's difficult to write
When you know the end.
Yet the stories about Addis,
Come to me in time.
Like a lost passage,
About the son of adam.
That I myself cannot fathom,
Or that I myself dare to write.
Often I wonder who put the words,
In my mind's eye about fantasy's.
I might not ever conceive,
During the hours of daylight.
That I neither trust or believe,
Often come to me during the night.
Words that come together,
Stick in my gut like floods of tears,
Entering my mind over many a year.
With no sure beginnings,
Definitely no middle let alone an end.
Yet here am I home scribbling alone,
Like the master of words.
Sometimes to short sometimes to long,
Writing about the death of a forgotten song.
Another imaginary fable that doesn't belong,
Will I ever finish it with no beginning.
Middle or end only time will tell,
My long gone but never forgotten.
Stan cooper one of my many never friends
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 91 times
Written on 2022-12-29 at 21:21
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
