Poetry At Age 24 Poem by Joshua Bantum

It’s a loss of words
Some how
When so many you’ve memorized all along
And you lack ambition to search it out.

A feeling you’ve already written out
And feel no need to
Anymore

It’s knowing that she is yours
So you withdraw before the fruit bores life…
A stalemate with yourself.

It’s a path you’ve walked
Your sure,
But here you are again,
you swear never did you waver in drunkenness
and get turned around.

Constantly dreaming up moments of déjà vu

At what point did the strain become slack
And my leash to this addiction loosen,
When did I stager in misdirection?

I haven’t written in days,
But this,
A testament to my stubbornness,
Is a cliché of astrology that only the absurdity
Of humanity could provide.

Poetry is
A lost word colored with your intention
And like a pebble
It is thrown into a river filled with the rest
A universe of pure intention
And your pebble fits to the mosaic
Perfectly
A grain of sand stained in place
To it’s Mandela

Poetry at the age of 24
Seems a stretch
A change of rapid pace
That I know,
Despite my currant short sightedness
Fits into the rest of my work,
It does this
Regardless of my attempts to make it standout.
.