the sadness of a writer
is a taste of salt
bickering me at nights
when silence still is silent

too much pondering
all thoughts wander deep
inside where many secrets
can’t contain the ligaments

with this melancholy
absorbing me many hours
i cannot think anymore
bland is the atmosphere

no good and harm
the air of luck is false
animosity is my enemy
i write with relief





About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to troubadour

  1. as long as that sadness brings out something haunting …

  2. Gede Prama says:

    Thank you friend for sharing this article quite interesting, hopefully we all get real happiness yamg rays began to warm our hearts and make the heart glad, when we can share it with sincere to each other. Affectionate greetings from Gede Prama 🙂 🙂

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