*****
July 27, 2003–
The day Hope died,
Left us with a quiet frown,
Trickles of slight tears
To know the end had come
Expectedly yet suddenly.
We were raised on Hope,
Singing, laughing as the
world
Began to take more than it
returned;
An empty ended hourglass
where we
Could see the sand and
almost touch
But never quite as we
believed in Hope;
Somewhere now the dream’s
alive,
Unburied, still performing
for the ones
That need it most to take
another step.
I've seen better poetry from you, but it's not really hate-able. It looks like it could be messed with and cleaned up a little and it could be really good. It contains some seeds of awesome is what I'm saying. :-)
ReplyDeleteBerlinerin: Thanks for the faith :)
ReplyDeleteYou are too hard on yourself, Ben. I think it's a good poem. Lordy, but we're just all too hard on ourselves!! (I'm the same way). Keep on writing... xo
ReplyDeletePS: Love the line, "...empty ended hourglass.." An excellent visual metaphor.