My Players Poem by JOE POEWHIT
My Players
Props scatter upon life's stage.
Images abound into parts.
Rigid fusions gather songs.
Wayward players dance long.
Callings cry for action.
Enveloped illusions churn.
Time metronomes frozen hearts.
The audience rigid stares.
Pawns positioned for direction.
So, life's stage abounds.
6/25/09 POEWHIT
JESUS SAVES
enveloped illusion churn is into nothing....lovely and concised life
This is very cleverly crafted with great imagery. 10 Karin Anderson
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 2:16:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
the movements of chess.and the life too so is true......... spell bound write...