Poem of Quotes Members

The Hermit

An old man, broken, bearded and grim

A philosophers age has past

Intertwined like many braids in greying hair

A summit of struggles bare the weight of his being

A chronical of dire woe

Yet, still he creeps there to and fro

Upon the sands of ancient dunes

Of abandoned relics and forgotten tombs

Under moonlit scenes and horrid dreams the hermit waits

In a place abandoned he stirs restless

A keeper of lost suffering

 


by deadiam
posted on 04/01/2016

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Tags: solitude
Comments: 3

Comment by Psychobabbled: Oct 7, 2016 12:04 am
Brilliant poem and great use of words, enjoyed reading.
Comment by TheMystery00: Apr 4, 2016 12:35 am
I like the format for tbis, great work keep it up
Comment by prettyspl: Apr 2, 2016 2:30 am
The images were right on ... different than your usual writings but nonetheless another great piece!

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