dwelling in uncertainty
that vacillates between
despair and hopelessness
swamped in depths of
darkened introspection
edged with silver chalices
dispensing only misery
– oh, is this figure me
cannot reach beyond good
yesterday where joy at no
expense conspires with glee
to free at least a winsome
smile – but wasted in this
hapless halophile
© 17 July 2009, I. D. Carswell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem