Weary Mind

Weary Mind…always questions

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Deliver me far from reason,
for it does me no favors,
when answers sought are far from logic’s curse,
and what heart interprets deserts my humble thoughts,
to fall to my doubts, my incessant bouts
of indecision.

Why does this mind plague me so,
just enough intellect to question,
not enough to quench my thirst,
as introspection drowns in shallow pools of hope,
perhaps beyond scope, of my persistent dreams,
my insistent schemes of knowing?

So who do I forge my path to be,
if not myself, who else,
when discovery is all the need, indeed,
my shadow cast from this of me, myself,
and what steps can bring me closer to who I am,
when I remain still, casting shadows?

My trail is lost, my travail a circle
as I pass the same points over,
and still the shadow follows me,
the sun my ecliptic centre;
and so if I sit, will I cease to be,
not moving, seeing worlds around
from one point only, in 360 degrees?

Sleep my only friend, of respite,
my true stayed repose to hold,
for conscious I
of every tick and pause in time,
and questions in profusion,
seem never to leave my weary mind.

Tony DeLorger © 2016

Tony DeLorger
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Tony DeLorger

Full time author, freelance writer, poet and blogger since 1999. Twenty one published works, past winner of 'Poet of the Year' on HubPages, 'Poem of the Year' on The Creative Exiles, writer for Allpoetry.com, Google+, tonydwtf.blogspot.com.au videos on YouTube and book sales on website thoughtsforabeautifulmind.com, Amazon and digitalprintaustralia.com.au/bookstore

7 thoughts on “Weary Mind

  • June 19, 2016 at 12:55 AM
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    The peril of our thoughts, huh, Tony? Poets for certain such a complicated lot with so much that runs through our minds and to our fingers. Will we ever find ourselves, or do we even want to? This says all this and more to me. Well done.

    Reply
  • June 19, 2016 at 4:46 AM
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    Tis the weary mind of a poet I read? Life is a travesty of thoughts, we awaken confused, wondering about in our own world of intrigue, hoping that the right choice of words will fall before us and quicken our souls for awhile. Yet hoping, maybe a chance meeting with our Muse will bring a spark of sanity back or plunge us back into our own abyss? Perils of our minds, we search daily within, amiss our confusion as we plunge forward each day, hoping to make sense of it all. Meanings we struggle daily with, yet this present world offers up and abundance of subjects to conjure up those thoughts that we pen so eloquently? Nicely penned as always Tony.

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  • June 19, 2016 at 4:58 AM
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    Much appreciated Vincent; I’ve missed you words. Glad you’re back on board my friend. Take care.

    Reply
  • June 19, 2016 at 7:33 PM
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    I believe poets reach such heights of beauty and love profound that when we come down the common thing is to allow our weary minds to wander. Darkness comes in and we look at it with open minds – and that is what encourages us to rise again. So the life of a poet continues. Well penned thoughts, Tony.

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  • June 19, 2016 at 7:35 PM
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    Tony, I believe poets reach such heights of beauty and love profound that when we come down the common thing is to allow our weary minds to wander. Darkness comes in and we look at it with open minds – and that is what encourages us to rise again. So the life of a poet continues. Well penned thoughts, dear poet.

    Reply
  • June 20, 2016 at 1:42 AM
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    Thanks Phyllis, we are a weird mob, we poets, rather fringe people in a way, but we share many things and understandings in common and with heart on sleeve write our words with conviction and a soul’s knowing.

    Reply

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