An adamantine distress

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Like a swimmer driven by a whirlpool of distress, Without a  morsel of hope, lampooned by regret,

In a storm of my own making; beseiged by clouds; 

I hide. Adamantly anchored to a despair, twenty fathoms wide

I'm riven by the whirlwind of my observable distress;

Starving and  alone, my anchor is the live-long day and yet, and yet, I fade away. 

Dressed in a black haze: dappled sunlight sways; There really is an abyss in the darkness before me; All around these terrible cliffs.

Mountains of the mind have sides:sheer, steep, sublime.

I grumble like a peasant over a scanty meal Discouraged, I am  invisible,

Providence provides the hand that feeds me: 

In the tunnels, the cliff edge, whilst crossing deep water.

The roaring shafts of sunlight disturb not my sleep. Again, I dress like  a madman, this refrain is deep

 in the abyss of darkness, I sleep, in a paradise  of sorts...the angels of heaven surround me:

My saviour is  my peacock angel delight and my unacknowledged thought.

 

◄ Nothing more

Blue ►

Comments

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Vautaw

Thu 14th Nov 2019 04:55

Poets must have pain to mold like clay. You make wringing out the soul onto the page look like child’s play! Bravo John. Write on.

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poemagraphic

Tue 12th Nov 2019 21:58

..."My Savior is my peacock angel delight and my unacknowledged thought."

What a line to conjure.
What a dichotomy

This piece fly's indeed, on angels wings
Po

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poemagraphic

Tue 12th Nov 2019 21:53

Crumbs John this sublimity is philosophy of the highest order.
its impression is so strong...

I can find no weak links in this chain my old friend.
Po

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