With just one more day left, Micropoetry Month pulls away to a bittersweet end. Writing everyday was pleasure and pain. Was joy and angst. Was exhilarating and draining. Was necessary and random. Was everything poetry is. And isn’t.
I have a short poem today inspired by a Midweek prompt at Poets United If you haven’t visited the group, be sure you will always find great poems to read, much to learn and new friends to make.
I wait outside the temple gate,
my feet shackled by my disbelief
to the nothingness,
my questions cast down into the dirt
like glass marbles,
the urchins run up to play with them
shooting one into another
letting them explode into a thousand universes,
one was carried away
in a small, grubby hand
through the carved double doors,
my question going where I
would not, where I could not,
its innocent eyes daring me
like an answer.
Share your poem using comments or Mister Linky. And stay tuned for the final Micropoetry Month post tomorrow!!!