You Linger Still









Who will read my verse in time?

will it be you, who holds me in

your high esteem? Yet hell knows

life is but a tomb, we all hide our

sorrows there within.


If I could pen the sincerity and

beauty your shadow casts across

my path, I would linger until dawn

with eternal joy.


You left me with such grace, your

age numbered so young, yet behold

the age that would come would only

say this poet lays in your rest.


The rage of time in antiquity and song

proclaims a stillness to my rhyme, and

like a child I mourn, lost without

you, for all time


As my parchment yellowed with age,

the crumpled edges folded and faded

over time, no scorn from this poet,

for drained his cheeks of color, his

tongue has spoken truths in his verse.


© Copyright 2014 by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved





You Linger Still — 14 Comments

    • Thank you Susan for your kind words, I was inspired earlier today and this is what came about. Glad you enjoyed it, enough so to buy 3 of my books, I thank you very much dear poet. Hugs

    • Dear friend you are so generous with your thoughts and feelings of my work, I have missed you. I often reflect on my days spent at the Hubs and the many friends I gathered there, you my dear have always been one of my fondest. Your work is beyond question, your master of the English language and the spirit of Emily surrounds you always. Thank you for stopping in for a read, this piece came to me today and I captured it in flight. hugs

  1. It’s hard to explain how deeply your words can touch a heart,. Sometimes l argue with myself, thinking. WORDS are just WORDS.! Not when you put them together, they are not. They form something wonderful. This one is especially so.

    • Thank you Dim for your kind words about my work. You always know how to boost me up and keep me inspired to create. This piece
      came as an inspiration to me fairly quickly and I seized the moment to pen it.

    • Thank you Wayne, it’s been awhile, I’ve been sharing mostly my old work, my inspiration for new has suddenly vanished. But I know it will reappear when I’m least expecting it to. My Muse is on holiday, probably sunbathing on the French Riv in the nude. Ha Ha..he can’t be disturbed, so this poet is floundering in the chill of Fall weather up north here.

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