Outside,
the city was hollow
concrete cocoons
waiting to bloom
into willing buildings,
soon.
She was crying
spring rain into my passenger seat.
Her feet crossed,
and tears were lost
as they glossed
her exhausted eyes
were green
with frost
and lies.
In my demanding wasteland,
understanding is a place and
forgiveness is a taste
in the breeze.
Winter came
when she, unashamed,
took his hand,
but shook the blame.
This place has changed.
All the lovely things I'd planted.
All the seeds were wishes granted.
All the coldest winds she panted
sing of springs of sins recanted.
But for now,
there is snow,
and nothing is green.
And nothing will grow.
Outside,
the city still glows.
A contest entry
- Life is a game! Get it?....No you don't. Just Come Look. by Ishtar.
600 points, ended April 21, 2008, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
it isn't safe.
Comments
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There's parts in this poem I absolutely adore due to the lovely, unique imagery and descriptions. However, there are also parts I can't seem to enjoy. Some of the stanzas stun the poem at places because of a rhyme that seems a bit forced and elementary.
Thank-you for your entry.
-Reni
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You know, my advanced poetry class loved it. My prof, who always is critical of me rhyming too much, told me to take it to Red Ink for next month's show, which is themed "love", but I doubt I will.
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You should. It's a lovely poem.
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