In A Lost Crowd Poem by Barry Middleton
In A Lost Crowd
isolation's hiding place
is in the mind
for there we see
hermits of every kind
the schizophrenic beggar
on the street
is a rhapsody in rags
without conceit
the shut-in widow
now is seldom seen
an overgrowth of hedges
are her screen
the old bachelor
feels his life has ended
and dwells in books
with fantasy pretended
and some are born
to seek the hermit's roll
the mystic madding poets
of the soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 7:17:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
