Who Remaineth?
Only stragglers and trash are left,
The crowds are gone,
In mad plunder for new pleasure.
But I will remain, and remain alone,
Perched high on the cliffs of forgotten memory.
And when once in solitude,
The shores will again speak to me.
Til then we both will wait, patiently.
Raymond Stark inherited his deep love of poetry and short-story writing from his published father, lyricist and poet, Raymond Stark (1919-1983), and today lives with his wife and daughter in the Ozarks of Missouri where, in log cabins and smoky morning vistas, poetry never dies!
The Literary Forest Poetry Magazine 