Here's a poem about wating until some event happens.
Some lines about a never approaching time.
Some words to get rid of the here and now.
But will I wait until I die?
Yours Sincerely, POSOWOCO
Want to read a haunting poem about a futile winter's day?
Or to ask if the day has only the thought of waiting for something?
And that that thoughis about a lost love or other need?
And you're unsure if the need will be met or not?
Why not take things as they are now and make things better?
Until all the words are out of me,
Until all the life has gone,
Until all the many worlds of me,
Until all my strife is done.
Until all the time and days with me,
Until all the strife and fun,
Until all my stories fade with me,
Until all my very sun.
Until all the many times with me,
Until all the sand and sea,
Until all the sounds and sights of me,
Until all my humming be.
Until all the forms and haze of me,
Until all the bouncing joy,
Until all the bits and grains of me,
Until all the parts of boy.
Until all the very print of me,
Until all the words and truth,
Until all the many grains of me,
Until all my glue is youth.
I will be on earth for you,
I will days be yours,
I will stay around for you,
I will fight your wars.
14th December 2021
I wrote this poem on a cold futile winter's day.
A theme that often crops up in my poems.
I had the thought of waiting for something, usually a lost love or other need, and not being whole until that after the event.
Usually, though, waiting entails missing out on a new life of openness.
It can mean ignoring potential and new life and loves.
After all, we have done and are worried about it's time to take a deep breath and relax.
Our hopes and dreams may have already come to and by this time of year.
Until I am used to and am happy with you, I will wait.