POTA 2 Map
The WellA well. It rests in a desert without sand or snow. On a field with no grass Where nothing grows.The Well
And with the unrelenting seep of time It fills. Upward from the deep, dark and cold, Water comes.
It collects through dirt, through time. While a dead wind scours And an unsetting sun bakes It fills.
It is the Last Oasis, A hole into the world. Partaken of by some. But filled by none.
The parched soul Knee-tracks through trackless waste Doesn't question the source of the well. It just drinks.
Su
Poem OneAh Poetry.Poem One
Noted art on lines apart by a rule and rules to know. Pad before me, a canvas laid bare, with paints bound in page and spine.
Hunt the synonym one more time,
find the hue that makes it rhyme.
Mix and match, frenzied rush,
stab the page with the brush and paint some solemn lines.
I coulda learned from Willy's best,
or pored over all the rest,
seek the Tyger, chase the Raven,
learn from all the literal mavens, but... I dunno.
It seems so hard to take the time
to filter through fine lined limericks and letter tricks
to fin
