One More Heavy Winter Solstice Conundrum

In the dark, waiting 

For the dark to begin 

 

At first sight 

Of dawn 

 

Becoming lighter again. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ill At Ease Amongst Many

A singular voice is what 

Most of us strive for; 

 

Most of the time we hear 

More than enough 

 

Silence that keeps 

Us moving. 

 

 

 

Archilochos Apparently Penitent

If I had to do it all over 

Again, perhaps that verily now

Quite ancient shield I hastily ditched 

Behind a bush and abandoned 

When the killing fields got too hot 

For my britches would still be mine, 

 

But then again, where 

Oh where

 

Would my poem be?

 

Artisan Of Self-Absorption

Funny thing-- 

You think you're here 

To make the best 

Of things 

 

Yet you fail 

To ask yourself why 

The baubles you exhibit 

Only make them worse. 

 

 

 

Bloody Murder

Shoddy serial poets love executing 

Poem after poem but never confess how 

 

Much it must kill them every time 

They see what they’ve done.