SCENTS OF A RENAISSANCE

Words lie dormant
beneath the feet
like discarded gum
turned black by
the rush hour
of realities winds
and yet we reach to
free them from their grave,

we are the hermits
of bone antiquity,
trapped between the gaps
of vision and suffering,
engraving lilies
in the imaginary pond,

no food to extinguish
the hunger we seek,
scents of a renaissance
and in the background
the sounds of cicadas are
slowly waking from their beds

Reviews

[John Anderson]

Very beautifully expressed and wonderfully written. Well done!

[Rene Velez]

Thanks John

[Susan Beth Horvath]

Thank you for this well written piece.

[Rene Velez]

Thanks Susan

[joshua deathdealer]

Great work here Rene. I'm partial to the ending of the second stanza. A very nice delivery of a needed message.

[Rene Velez]

Thanks Josh

[Baby Ricochet]

This country could use a renaissance of sanity. Good poem Rene

[Rene Velez]

Thanks Ric.