Jun 102012
Like a captive hurtling towards freedom
He reaches out for the fangs
Of the spitting spigot.
Groping warily for this wayward son
She catches the sweet stings on her hands
And becomes a reluctant convert.
Perhaps he heard the calling
Beyond the swirling mists
Causing him to skirt the warning
Of those scolding fists.
He is of my tribe
A pursuer of his cause
Who lets the indignations slide
For the greater good of the cause.
I shall follow this virgin road
Undeterred by the premonitions of my friend.
For like the child who went against the mode
I aim to triumph in the end.
Last stanza reminds me of the poem ‘A road less travelled by’(can’t really recall it’s writer or real title)…
Not following the norm…MIGHT make for a better life… Triumph you will by the way…Well done HUD…$ß.
Thanks for the kind words, @sibbylwhyte.
Yes, triumph you will….
Nice one @howyoudey
Thank you, sir. @lancaster.
Nice…so we be kindred spirits eh?
Abi. Thanks, @raymond.
I salute your craftmanship well done
Thank you, @mikeeffa.
Nice one.
Nice words.
Keep going. The path is not for everyone.
‘Preciate your kind words. @Seun-Odukoya.
Just keep going.
Thanks for reading, @kaycee.
Concise, content laden … !
Thanks for the observation @josephoguche.