Untitled Series Part 3

Again as in the past few days, a whole lot has been swimming against any efforts to post. But one battles through and working on this post over a couple of days has finally brought us to this point.

Stil sitting here with one arm in a sling to protect a fracture in my wrist, I am typing with one hand. Which in itself is a little harder than I would have expected. But still I expect my typing to be a little careless at times.

In todays post I am keeping with the Untitled Series, On a number of levels it is easier and avoids placing some creative name that either may or may not fit the topic of a poem. But todays poem is again centered on Faith on one side, whilst on another one may find to be rather scaterd and unorganised. Much like one’s mind that may appear at times.

Striving to push forward a look that one’s mind wanders OR can wander to zones that can be an exploration atone point of view. But when one looks at Faith, is it always accepted within society? Or is it something to be judged and weighed up to be a menace? So much can be read from people who wander in silence, like a mind that is left to wander and explore the void of their own existence.

Having said all of this, Please try to enjoy this Poem:

_{((The Photograph above has been taken from an outside location and displayed with Thanks, Copyrite remains with those who carried out such work))}

Untitled Series  Number 3


Sailing oceans,  still alive was my call,
At times I had to crawl beyond the wall.
Gifted beyond recall I fall until,
It is broken by decisions that fill.


Rushing through life obedient to what?
Some yet hoping they will never  be caught.
Without care leaving where destiny shines,
No fines exist keeping between the lines.


When tides come crashing in defeating cares,
 Washing tears with airs and all the affairs.
 As walls of despair surround all this ground,
Bound to retain by desires until found.


One rides high holy,  untouched by all sin,
Few have denied His walk, accept to win.
Pride withheld the perfect glass,  lost in class,
 No mast is high enough to pass the brass.


Who declares his fate stands at the great gate,
In a world that now stands on hate and wait.
Ocean wide tides grows high against the Rock,
Bells begin to chime lost against the clock.



_{© Pat Fitzgerald 2023}

Thank you for reading this far into this post, It means a lot to me that folks read my work and enjoy them. Some poetry contain topics that may or may not contain issues that readers either agree with or experience or simply will disagree with. But still Poetry is a form of art work that I enjoy and thus using it in a manner to touch the reader.

My path through writing and publishing it on this blog is a journey beyond any expectations. So my thanks to you for joining me on this journey.

Poetry for me is a constant learning curve that I always strive to improve. Often due to the speed of my typing and a few other issues, mistakes and typos will find their way into published posts. I continue to work on improving this as I move along. My thanks for your understanding this.

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Until Next Time Cheers.

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