Imprisoned

Paradise my cell, nature's heaven my hell

Marooned, banished all hope vanished 

My only words shared with poetic birds

Cottony ears of sky I beseech, a signal of rescue to reach

Deaf clouds move on and soon are gone

Reviews

[RomaJ]

And this is why we write. Sometimes our thoughts can feel like a prison and ironically, too much thinking is not good for the mind. We write the feelings of the heart, the yearnings of the soul. Even if it doesn't feel like it resonates, with the "conttony ears of the sky" it will resonate with the poetic birds that can soar across that sky, sometimes it's all we can do. And you have a mighty pen, my friend
Roma

[Soren]

Thank you for your words they are most encouraging in their support and that is most appreciated. You are so right that too much thinking is a problem and even in editing a poem too much rework takes the feeling out of the piece. When I start thinking too much I go outside and start some physical job that needs to be done. It is in hard labor that the thoughts calm.