The Old Priest

By The Talisman

Tue, 27 Nov 2012

754 reads

3 comments

The old priest’s head was pushed down into the mud

The pustules on his face oozing, like an erupting oracle

The skin sagging under the weight of worthless knowledge

Crying out for release

Some sign of self worth

But none

Sleep tight, perusers of the night

For the dawn brings with it an endless quest

Drop down into the abyss of complacency

Its depths confine and confide

Sweet dreams, fair of heart

Sweet dreams

Certificate PG

Poem

Miscellaneous

Comments

Drunken musings can be

Permalink Submitted by The Talisman on Tue, 2012-11-27 18:27

Drunken musings can be poignant at times.

Tali, I don't know why, and

Permalink Submitted by karl_wiggins on Tue, 2012-11-27 20:08

Tali, I don't know why, and this probably isn't how you planned it, but this struck me as very funny. "The old priest’s head was pushed down into the mud." What a fantastic Opening Line!

Thanks, Karl. There was no

Permalink Submitted by The Talisman on Tue, 2012-11-27 20:30

Thanks, Karl. There was no plan to this. Just sat down at the keyboard. A couple of minutes later, this was the result. Most things I write make me smile or laugh. Whether, right or wrong. Otherwise I just couldn't do it. Glad you were laughing though. Always a good response.