Like so many lonely hours
I count away the night,
As thoughts are consumed
by childhood days;
Where our dreams were real
and the air was sweet...
But now the world seems so tasteless.
Every hour; wasted.
We spend our lives waiting;
Supplicating the universe
for a glimpse at truth,
While actions are idle.
A simmering suspicion culminates;
Some things we cannot forget.
Regret.
Memories, dug from the ashes
of burning books,
Contain fleeting images
of what could have been;
The exalted expectations
now stale hopes of youth;
The things we once held dear.
The future is unclear.
But one thing is certain;
Destined are we to rot,
As all of our dreams
(scrawled on hasty scraps of paper)
Are lost.
Author notes
4. Nostalgia....
Some rhyming, but it is still free-verse. The rhyming serves a purpose; it isn't mindless.
A contest entry
- I was unaware that you were lost by etoile.
700 points, ended April 27, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I love the stanza after 'regret.' it's amazing and has such great imagery. I understand the rhyme isn't mindless, and I did like the rhyme with 'regret' but the rest just wasn't my favourite.
this is still really great though, I like your take on the prompt.
goodluck and thanks for entering
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good stuff. liked this alot
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I like your rhyming...I think it fits in really well. And it pulls it all together nicely. And yet it still remains free verse, which flows beautifully. Good job
Chook
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