Greg Davidson

(1954 / Sydney, Australia)

An Introspection


There is a time for rhyme,
And then there is another time.
There is a face I show,
And in another place,
Another face to see
And then there's me.

Is it me that in my rhyme I see,
Or do I lie?
What shall I be?

The mirror stands before,
Its image I ignore.
I wear a mask,
And still I ask,
What can this wretched creature be?

I seek a key to set me free,
But still the door lies open.
The way is marked with lantern clear
But still I stumble.
These words they trickle from my mind
In permutated jumble.

The truth I see,
The words aren't me,
But I am my word's decree.

Submitted: Monday, January 02, 2012
Edited: Monday, May 21, 2012

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  • Stevie Taite (12/3/2012 1:47:00 PM)

    Permutated! Great word! This a great poem, expressing how you feel about your writing! Your writing has been enjoyed! Thanks (Report) Reply

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