DP (12/02/1968 / Georgia)

Lone

When I stand within the 100 valleys
where sounds and echoes play,
Where gusting winds cease to end
an gales linger against the day
I stand beneath the mountain side
and cry out aloud....
and hear no voice or verbal bound
returning back again...
For I fear indeed I am alone
beneath this woeful mountain tall.
For neither foe nor fitting friend
or solemn solace echoes bend
an ear to heed my call

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Other poems of POLK (7)

Comments (1)

I 'sort of' love this. It's something like I try to do myself. I've liked all three and look forward to more!