Freshly Minted


Those safely hallowed paths
Years of trace and then follow

Abandoned now in discovering
This face among the flowers

This sweet mesmerising voice
(Our faith at best a foolishness)

This sweet mesmerising scent
(Sense never truly made sense)

Time to abandon this circling
Gone, gone, gone, gone beyond


This was written as a contribution to The Secret Keeper’s Weekly Writing Prompt No. 59.


About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on June 28, 2019, in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. I miss those prompts. I waited for Fridays, just for those.
    It’s almost haunting, how your poem seems to be looking back, with her absence,

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: