Constellations far beyond our eyes,
wait upon our new frontier.
Our time here is now limited,
as we simply can not stear.
Man the oh so powerful,
he can swiftly blow things up.
But don’t ask him to fix it,
as he drinks rum from a giant cup.
Lost are all the dreams,
that may have once held hope.
A generation of beings,
without a way to cope.
Cries fall on deaf ears,
as they all do just pretend.
When no one is willing to listen,
what is it that we defend.
Lies they fall in plies,
for those that wish to hear.
But the truth now lays in facts,
it is quite simply clear.
A contest entry
- PIF Merci! by Age of Rain.
1000 points, ended September 3, 2008, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Pretty rhyme that flows very well. I enjoyed the title as it piqued my interest and felt that you chose an excellent way to present the prompt.
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