He said how much he liked my poem
not knowing
it was but a list of words.
She smiled and touched my greying hair
and said she loved me,
but, was for my money.
I sang my lyrics with guitar
a triumph, judges nodded,
but I was flat, words, empty, puny.
My tidings I preach
from pulpit high,
congregation, rightly, sleep.
The void is empty,
far worse than shallow:
Nothingness.
A contest entry
- I hope I never feel this... by Cannonsfire.
1750 points, ended August 21, 2008, 26 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Tidings from high pulpits always put me to sleep. I think this poem was filled with good word pictures. It says a lot in few words. That's always a good thing.
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This almost felt too deep to explain 'shallow' but I thank you for the entry.
C
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nothing is worse to be told empty lies where one could use truth all in it's glory...
yes this has me thinking abit!
Keep penning on one stroke at a time!
Bill
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kind of lacking in depth ( kind of a pun) This is a great use of the prompt. For some reason I am reminded of a joke about a minister that noticed a man who was sleeping. He stopped his sermon and asked the man sitting next to the sleeping man, "pardon me, sir but would you wake him up?" " No" was the man's reply. "You put him to sleep, now you wake him up." LOL. I just told my husband how beautiful silver hair is on a man. Women just get grey!
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Excellent! I really like this.
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What depth of feeling you have here, unlike the subject.
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