An untainted tiny grain of sand
pressed between fashioned expectations,
forms unfounded pedastals,
reaching ever higher to heights
unobtainable, unachievable.
Time...
...decays each illusioned layer
exposing truth: the frailty,
the mortalistic ironicism,
pushed back behind optimisms hope.
A contest entry
- Without the words by Envelope.
4200 points, ended April 3, 2008, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
This probably isn't too obvious, but I'd be glad to know what you make of it.
Comments
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ahh the hour glass. I was surprised to see it on the first try. The whole idea has always been tragic in a way, Once we leave that top bubble, that heaven as it were, we will only spend the rest of our time trying to reach it once again. Nothing makes me happier than a writer who can make me think. A great job here, hands down
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There's a little more to it than that, though you are right, the hour glass does have a part to play. If you would like me to expand upon it let me know.
Thank you for the applauds.
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If this was my contest, you'd win, hands down.
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