Where is
the present?
Ask me- not.
For nothing’s left
but smudges from
yesterday’s impassioned grace-
imprinted upon the lids of
coffee cups-
emptied.
It’s only the echoes
from thousand footsteps
that was left to linger while
the overpowered forces of sanity
retreated towards the
sweetness of
oblivion.
Gone are the signets, and
the overture has been deposed-
as the pigment of certainty grew fainter-
along with the intoxicating spell of
contention that belied the glaring
signs of surrender.
The present has
withered away while the
overture faded.
©leofinajanegalleta
08March2010
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Later in the century, the group of poets known as La Pléiade, known, created a new style of French verse inspired by Classical models. Dillan Poems
Hmm, we spend way too much time regretting about the past, and planning for and speculating about the future, that we forget and deny the present. Nicely written!
@Brosreview- thank you-
. Your interpretation is really close to what I was thinking when I was writing this poem,:-).
@Dillan Poems- thanks for sharing the info.:-)