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Through twisted ancient woods I go
whose trees are near bereft of leaf.
They live though they have ceased to grow
as if their heartwoods are filled with grief.

The path, though worn, is crossed with roots
in random manner lacking plan
just waiting on unwary boot
to trip up this old hobbled man.

Sunshine glows clearly up above
but somehow stops at the trees' crowns.
For this forest daylight holds no love
here leagues from any farms or towns.

Yet with my staff I still limp on
on a journey seeming without end
for ever onward I am drawn
bereft of kin or even friend.

For my destination Must be attained,
what destination I don't know.
Of answers, it seems, I am drained.
Perhaps it's better that it's so.

And fatigue continues to mount
though journey's end comes into sight.
Is it some kind of mysterious fount?
A root trips me just at fall of night...

The surge of pain awakens me,
releasing me from this dark dream.
Real pain radiates from my right knee
twisted while sleeping it would seem.

I lie awake in this dark hour
and wonder what this dream might mean
for it seems to have some kind of power
as if its journey was once seen.

And then as day begins to break
the dream defines itself at last.
Its trek was not made without sake.
It was a replay of my past.

A past filled with far too many passed,
too many years of love and loss
which have mounted far too fast
like some kind of high speed moss.

I rise and wipe sleep from my eyes
leaving Susan to her peaceful sleep
while far off a mournful coyote cries.
Toward Real journey's end I slowly creep.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


is far away starting from a distant land
as you walk with a stick in hand
knock kneed may be
let the blood flow
as you alone in western style poetry glow
Frost missed a Nobel
hope they about you think also
ere 'tis too late stan

none will ever know
LOL and I will RFLOL

I appreciate your dropping by . i was about to pull this poem due to lack of comment; figured it was not worth commenting on lol........stan

author comment

their socks
Esker told me never
perhaps he meant
as you are least commented
you will be left blank

let the poetry remain some guy will some day
not abstain
as you are read by someone again and again....

this site is losing its charm
only because no one comments
nor critiques
none know if any one has read it

Like my December one
ask her
did she at all read it

that's why I hate to judge

she read all entries.

author comment

the better must always win

As always your poems walk your thoughts...i am just back here after a long abstention...

raj (sublime_ocean)

It's great to see you back. And thanks for dropping by.

author comment
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