A Poem To and from My Soul
That stemmed from a reflective day.
A raw emotion has a way to the core
It moves silently out of the thought
Stealthily so you won’t know
What so softly reeled you on?
Today, I’ve decided to look carefully
At everything….
Today is a day for contemplating, pondering, examining.
What’s going on inside my soul?
Is it there where my truth resides?
If there’s a truth that flows, there
I shall find it.
All these thoughts that come and go, where do they come from?
Don’t want the answer that a text gave.
What purpose would that serve?
Introspection will be mine…
She’s been waiting a long time
It hasn’t been good for the soul
To procrastinate for this long
When the key was there all along
The mirror tells us the story
That we always seek to avoid
But there’s no avoiding the secret
that is held deep within your soul.
About the Creator
Rene Volpi
I'm from Italy and write every day. Being a storyteller by nature, I've entertained (and annoyed) people with my "expositions" since I was a child, showing everyone my primitive drawings, doodles, and poems. Still do! Leave me a comment :)
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More stories from Rene Volpi and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Road to Nowhere
Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
beautiful