The Well of Poetry

The Well of Poetry

The Well of Poetry

Many it was dug
With golden liquid
Glittering in the evening moon

To the one it was used
To the other it was shut
In the face with its bleeding nose
To the last it was tasted once
And never return to set eyes
At its gaze

To me
Out of child’s ignorance
Let the well water
Flow to some tiny bit
With its waist weaving back-end

Looking back
As I stare into its face
With the mirror projecting
The dim corner of the top

I wonder how long
Oh! yes I did wonder
It would take before
I drink it dry



About Michael Ogundele

A writer, ardent reader and lover of nature. fell in love with writing five years back and I've been engraved in her arms ever since. I share my little way of writing poetry and reflections based on Catholic faith and Spirituality on this space. I hope you enjoy reading as we ride the same chariot to the leafy greens. Do follow me and together, let us jump into the ocean of my ink.
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4 Responses to The Well of Poetry

  1. Fantabulous ….changed your pic…looking smart!


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