Monuments stand alone,
amid green covered lawn,
dew fed and glistening,
as lone willow whispers
to ghost fluttering
through wind-kissed leaves,
while somber faces
with limbs like manikins,
wait under canopy
that blends with the grounds,
for words to be uttered
and memories shared,
as solitude profound.
Its a good one. Could have been devastatingly good.
Monumental people always stand alone. Anything monumental always has to be alone. And since it is alone, it seeks profoundness in its painfully solitary bliss.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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Best regards,
Leland
holds profound-ness
in itself!!!
Monumental people always stand alone. Anything monumental always has to be alone. And since it is alone, it seeks profoundness in its painfully solitary bliss.