On My KneesA Poem by Allen SmucklerTormented fingers clenched tightly in a fist of condescending blues. Maple leaves and acorns strewn about the landscape, and I, on my knees reaching longingly and hopefully for a past I’ve left behind. Understanding and nurturing those thoughts of ambiguity, the reckoning of the present resonates soundly within and encores prevail from future reverberations. I continue to question, while on my knees, all that is worthy and good and yes, even meaningful. I often stand corrected, like a blizzard’s whiteout, however confused I get, and you, always on my mind, and again, you find me floundering on my knees, searching, groping, exploring the world...on my knees, trying to rise and be counted. While on my knees, bloodied and wounded from the heat and the pavement of life, and the hardness and complexities of time and the unyielding fact that I must remain on my knees forever, if I am to survive another day.
© 2011 Allen SmucklerAuthor's Note
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Added on April 19, 2011Last Updated on April 19, 2011 Author![]() Allen SmucklerSarasota, FLAboutI'm a poet, a singer, a peaceful gunslinger.. looking to share my poetry..and a little bit of me...if I dare I 've been writing since I was 18.... am slightly older now, and still trying to fin.. more..Writing
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