PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

If from my stumble I arose,

and forced my gypsy feet,

to fully quit their rabid mumbling,

and walk the straighter street;

Could I find that lonely want,

with the wind along my back,

A solid happy bedding,

'neath my tumbled loathesome shack?

A weir pronounced, unseen, unbounds

the lure I've swallowed deep,

Whose daming tar of vacant garbles,

no frontline score can keep;

I need the peace true order brings,

to raise my jumbled height,

To soar away this restlessness,

and drive away the night.

(Original Ending to which the comments are made)

Away to coloured heights I'd fly,

As the healing purity falls,

And I'll road my footing wisely,

For I'm castling new King-ly walls.