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Hush oh hush

Withering husk

By Raymond G. TaylorPublished about 19 hours ago Updated about 18 hours ago 1 min read
Coastal lightning, Amalfi, Italy, Summer 2022. Photo: RGT

Is there something I am missing

As I try to understand

Every strand of meaning

My endeavour to be circumspect

Appreciate levels of existence

Resistance to prejudice

Enough to form

An opinion

A view on life

The things I must do

To carry on through

But where is the purpose

Am I merely a slave perforce

In the game of life

As I strive to do what is required

Aspire to higher estate or

Perhaps

Other strings to the lyre

Merely to prance toward

The funeral pyre

Seems to me not enough

Bereft of livid husk

Mere bluff

Hush oh hush

Perhaps as the rest of my time

Fades

I will be but a charade

A shade

Of what might be

Could have been

Nay cannot be

Just me

Alone

Here

At home

Soon to be

Nothing

sad poetry

About the Creator

Raymond G. Taylor

Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.

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Comments (1)

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  • Dharrsheena Raja Segarranabout 17 hours ago

    Oh yes, we are all slaves. Life is a scam and a gamble. It's sad, but unfortunately, that's the reality. Loved your poem!

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