Sunday, February 14, 2010

Fruitless Searches

Free-verse. Rough draft. Strange for me. Don't really know where it came from.

Fruitless Searches

Culling the depths of self
Expecting to find the profound
Or at least
The unexpected...

Ah, the sting of expectations!
For what I found
Not profound,
But shallow, really,
The proverbial prodigal child
Cloaked in martyrdom,
but without a welcome home.

Much less than I had hoped,
But hope is like that--

Made of wishes,
Dashed by reality.


  1. Thanks Anon...

    The poem sounds pretty bleak, but I'm actually not. I think I'm just moody ;-)