The Alchemist Poem by Max Reif
The Alchemist
Each morning long before dawn,
I rise and creep downstairs,
an alchemist entering his study.
I turn on my magic screen
to see what gifts
the darkness has bestowed.
Again today, few results
of the work are manifest.
Disappointment rises.
Perseverance
gets up to comfort her,
and the work goes on.
Keep persevering through the disappointment. This too shall pass. dan
So true Max. And you do indeed turn words into gold. Hugs Anna xxx
maybe i'm understanding it wrong, but poets are like alchemists, they write poems and post it in here, the feeling of some one liking your work is undescribable. But even if know one notices your poem that doesn't mean that you should give up. We continue writing no matter what. All the best HBH
I don't know why Max but this piece made me sit back and chuckle. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 12:47:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Ah, a well-known scenerio, Max. Like opening the mailbox in breathless anticipation........ EMPTY! But it's that unexpected comment or message that makes it all worth the effort. So, keep penning, and making the magic happen! Linda