A Game Of Words In Circles

dismiss these words as nothing but fireflies
moving in circles around the crown of a tree
on a very dark night,

for these works of the wind are nothing
but images of ghosts
whirling on top of my head all

for nothing but a play of mental drawings
moving and moving in circles
in imaginary skies

believe me not,
i am just a poet, and a beginner at that,

move on with your life, and think
of something else, your future

your ambitions, your love
and desire, keep moving on

and leave me, i am drunk with
poetry, and i whirl on top of

my table, filled with words, that
i touch with my hands

something that i cannot tell you
because i know, you too from the

start, understands them all,
like my face in the dark, that

you have always loved, and
yet can never hold.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!