Matur Achuil

The Soft As Stone

A mistaken mystery messed up the ways into a maze
As the council's march up to the yard parted ways
And a number-hard fixed to scores- in circle betrays
Prejudice camped on the dealing as left in a gaze
The lunatics behaved to beehive, a title to appraise
None was left but all then was to sarcoma to preys.
The stone so soft with nerves little dead breathe sways
Like cold as winds of winter sways the willows as breeze
As it has every chill-numbed corps tarnished merely decayed.

And the sun as high as silk woolen hairs towering the head
The toes with fingers united in an awaiting soldered dead
As if to land hard as hard could tell to crush the dead knead
Down with none but a piece of hope clinched to take lead
Whispers wise a mug to wheel a drive ready to take flight as led
But wait, the voice in the whispers took a sip of air overglad
And sighted a shrewd cloud of ice-cold graceful lend a hand
With that alone, the stone as soft as harden intended to break
And as sudden as death stopped giving life to hope little lost
Rejoice the old gold-mind of days that never took the time to fathom.

Soft as stone, their voices called-asked to conglomerate attention
And their labs with ill the diseases all of the sort busted like devil's wills
Working the wind to summon to commitment on their accomplishment
Who has no 'wheiy' literally life to stone with a space swollen in time,
That mercilessly make a remark so bad as destiny miniatures wills!
Certainties like calamities catastrophe none but all the old in cold alike
Then deafen to refrain on a statement less made of a mind in fear
With intention attention-ed to attend the tendered minced purposes
But the will stands a distance to sight a won battle of the last household.
Soft as stone, who has the time to mimic a lost gamble with few cards!

Defend with a fence yet a leak like air perforates the obstructions
Their might like soft as stone call the mysteriously messed maze,
And in doubt, their head bowed to questions the answers- the number,
Like a leaking cold, it has gone far as distance called the virtual heavens,
Soft as stone with stone who has the nerves to have scored the owner's
And the answers with their lips bite dissolved among the soft as stones.

Topic(s) of this poem: riddle poem

Poem Submitted: Sunday, June 26, 2016
Poem Edited: Monday, June 27, 2016

Form: Riddle

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I was motivated by a fact
That held lots of sense to me
As some not all are less informed
Of the life so in a vein availed
To those in vain in a piece
Like slice of a cockroach meat....

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