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by Ben Pickard Mar 12, 2018
Sadness, depression /
To breathe in woe and then bemoan the thunderclouds
Can bring no kind of sympathy or peaceful rest.
The storms that we amass we then must blow away
And tie our hearts upon the setting sun out west.
Are apples truly rotten on this gnarly tree -
Can birds not perch upon the branches just as well?
Is all this ugliness, in fact, just ripe in me
And have I cursed this life with my own wretched spell?
The perfect home is something that I always knew
But greener grass is all I ever really craved;
A lesson, then, before I finally undo
The ropes that tie my fragile raft and float away.
*Please do not nominate this poem. Thank you.
Ben Pickard 2016
its not only beautiful, its elegant and powerful. this is your best poem i wonder why it's not trending
by Ben Pickard
Thanks, VAHID. I've always thought this was my best poem too.
This blew me away the first time I read it, and it still does! It's a precious poem.
Thanks, Mel. In my opinion, it's the best thing I've ever written so it does hold a special place in my heart. Glad you like it too.
Ben, I have always loved this poem. It was wonderful to read it again.
by Em (marmite)
This has always been one of my favourites of yours.
Take care x
by Kitty Cat Lady
Still love this Ben and I'm glad you re-posted it :-) x
by C Cattaway