The early cloudless sky
beckons with anticipation
the rise of the sun,
and beside the road
of tar and potholes
banks of soft mist lie
thick with silence
floating into dawn.
Man’s journey is often
a night of yearning
where each cry
is without hope,
and the playing field
a catacomb of delusion
incarcerated in darkness
without escape.
Mist and hope
will fade at rise of sun,
and their capture will never
come to pass, unless the flesh
is bruised and the heart is charred
by dawn in the mind of man
who dreams eagerness
at the rise of day.
In a list
A contest entry
- Langston Hughes - quick contest by Peteskid.
1200 points, ended May 5, 2008, 15 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
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Just stopping by again to reread and to send my congrats on the silver. Wonderfully done!!!!
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"Man’s journey is often
a night of yearning
where each cry
is without hope,"
a very poignant poem...congrats to you on the silver
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I read it and thought to myself....You've written a poetic summary of my life. I wondered, at first, how did you know then it dawned on me... You're a man too. Your words strike very close to home on this one my friend. Good luck in the contest.
Sincerely,
Leo Long
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Very nice ...
and very nicely done.
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How well you wrote ...
not only about the sentiments of the prompt, but to illuminate basic and core elements of man's gentle response to the beauty of life's yearning. The personification worked good in this poem, for once again you stipulated in subtle words the interconnectivity between the longing heart and its endless dawns of dreams.
Love to you, tender soul, and good luck in this contest.
Myra
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jcqlnclvn
This is beautiful! Reminds me our "dreams of eagerness at the rise of the day" can make our journey here what we want it to be. Good Luck! Thank you.
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This is a beautiful poem that takes the reader on a dreamy journey. The final stanza was unconventional, substituting the hard worn lessons of life for dreams.
Peace, Liz
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Beautiful. I especially loved the sight of the dreamy mist near the banks of an otherwise ugly road.
Also, the ending of your piece speaks such truth. To follow hope, to capture hope, truly one often must pay an exacting price. It can not be found in numbed living.
Marvelous poetry.
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a beautiful metaphor of the journey and extended into the cry, hope and delusion... wonderful and like the Hughes poem, dream and awakening...so very well done here; to me , simplicity and a volume of ideas in metaphor. Thank you for this fine entry into the contest and best of luck in the judging...PK
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