An old man, in an old chair.
Resting on the corner.
With curly, graying hair.
His hands produce a treasure.
It's small and kind of shiny.
He holds it like a lover.
A woman, metal; tiny.
He leans into twilight.
Wets his cracked lips.
Gathers a large breath,
holds the box in fingertips.
Behold, his chest draws tight.
A mournful sound is born.
Such pain and beauty together,
A masterpiece, but torn.
Soon a rhythmic tune is set.
A refrain in wordless song.
A song of beauty untold,
and of how it all went wrong.
This is the man on the corner.
He plays the sun to sleep.
This man's sad lullaby.
Brings the sun to weep.
Sol's tears rest around her.
In her bed on high.
Finally calmed by song.
Tears, twinkling as they dry.
The man's song is a story.
Of work, and endless duty.
Of a man and his eternal job,
of bringing forth night's beauty.
Author notes
I feel like the timing got a bit goofy... I hope it isn't to hard to read. Feel free to be constructively critical.
- Rhyme and Meter Workshop group list • next in list
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Comments
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Outstanding
This needs some work to really make the rhyme and meter flow. I think it would have helped if you'd chosen a definite form, broken it up into stanzas and decided on a syllable count for each line - 8 is a good choice and then made sure each line had 8 syllables. That would have helped to strengthen the poem. I thought the content was good though and I enjoyed reading this poem.
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