Untitled Series Part 4

Following the same route as the past couple of posts, todays poem continues with the Untitled Series. I believe that marking poetry as unnamed, has at least for me, made things a little easier and thus also avoiding any issue around names on these poems.

Folks may themselves find names that fit, but for myself at this moment I find that they fit in this series. At times topics will appear to vary, as is the case today. As we here in ireland await an arrival of yet another storm, I found an easy route to todays poem, considering what I expect to find when all has passed.

Creating this post much like that past coupleof posts have been a little harder, because I am not very used to working with one hand in a sling, thus still nursing a wrist fracture, I am finding my way through.

Todays poem can again be taken in a couple of ways , I am certain some may find the route through this poem when considering Faith and thus tie in the poem and Faith along the way. BUT when one considers the paths that cross when Love passes on and fades for some, much like the passing of a season. Still the memories remain to carry moments in one’s heart.

Having said this much, Please enjoy This Poem:

_{((This Photograph has been taken from an outside source and posted with thanks, Copyrite remains with those who carried out such great work))}

Untitled Series Part 4



Rains keep falling and no one calling here,
Was it e’er fear that soon had me appear.
Yet flood waters flow as rivers down hill,
Who dared for thrills where winter soon will spill.


   Where you once laid in the warm summer sun,
Autumn rains flood still spun for winters fun.
But nothing remained in a heart aching,
Since you left me dear now all is breaking.


Broken bones can cast no stones, but words hurt,
Where once milk was spilt, a stain on life’s shirt.
Soon washed in the morning sun and redone,
Thus begun wandering nights, loves end run.


A web weaved at Loves door pure to the core,
That sparkled as springs misty mornings wore.
A bright display of uniformed array,
Be it silver or be it gray today.


Your sweet love left it’s mark deep beneath all,
Past the point of no where memories crawl.
Still seasons come and go like loves lost road,
Flood rivers flowed downhill, such is loves code.





 _{© 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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