From the light of the burning candle
He sat,
For hours alone in his room
Like a retreat
From a constant war
With himself.
Poor Jacob,
What did he think?
Abandoning the love of his life
For writing.
Now he aged
In the dark room,
Writing about his life
On rotting pages.
In the room of Jacob
After his death,
There remained only a memory
Written by his own hand.
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This Beautiful Draw By Richard Wilson ~ Thank you for giving inspiration.
wow ! that is brilliant MissyP unreal this says so much apart from the obvious of becoming obsessed with your own preoccupation looking yourself away .. ... just sad too yeah . .. i cod go on for ages what i also get from this no no its ok I want do that to you! So Loving this :) always Beez .
ReplyDeleteoh and a ps,,how rude I am ! tch tch ,,,:))
ReplyDeleteLove the simplicity of the art work tis fabulous .. just a beautiful touch to your words perfect partners here :)
Missy, gorgeous!! Loved every line and stanza. This is a wonderful poem. It's simple in content, yet profound in message and imagery. A gem if you ask me, but what do I know? I just know a wonderful poem when I see one. And this one.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Bessz and Emme <3 much love to you both <3
ReplyDelete