The fog gently roll off the pond
Early in the mornings dawn.
The fresh crisp air in my lung
Then I suddenly take the plung.
The air was over coming
My head couldn't stop drumming.
This beat was pounding in my head
That I was forced to go ahead
From what I was going to do
To something I want to askew.
In the heart of my nightmare
I came to relize that I accually cared
For this thing that I despaired.
I finally found that the things I hate
Can turn out to be the things I can create.
Author notes
saveourcity
A contest entry
- Nature Poems- For Poets With 10 Trophys Or Less- Prewrites Allowed by Mercury Rising.
550 points, ended October 7, 2007, 6 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - INVITATION ONLY by Samantha Marie.
1100 points, ended October 25, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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ooo i like how the flow never stops, it just keeps on pushing you to the end, and the last line
"can turn out to be the things i can create" is so powerful
lovely write!
thanks for entering! -
Very strange but interesting at the same time. I quite enjoyed reading this excellent poem. Best of luck in my contest, and thanks for entering.
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Weird, but that is why I like the things I do. Because they are weird. I like especially the by hating you are creating theme of this poem. Creative. Keep it up!
*peace*
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