The Saint Poem by Rickardo BecklesBurrowes
The Saint
No I'm not a saint, as much a sinner as you
learnt some lessons late,
nearer to knowing the 'me', too true – too true;
sometimes reckless, while sometimes sedate.
Unconsciousness felt like velvet fitted closely,
who I once was hovered on a cliff edge, smiling down.
No really, I'm still no saint; owning my truth gently,
wingspan embracing the new calm inside that I've found.
Taken from 'X'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/19/2024 3:35:27 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Genius poem! we all are saints inside potentially!
Thanks for the positive feedback Liza; -)