Just a Poem

Member since 2005 · Posted 29 Apr 2005 · 2 comments

The universe: it supplies our lives Leaving us to fly if we proceed to try But do we revise our true nature disguised Do we really reprise our efforts devised Or are we enticed by a life of âstyleâ Are dreams worthwhile if we leave them contrived? Maybe the subconscious is the prize to realize Life is but a utensil to revive, Fight and evolve this world in sight If we fail to improvise we may lose humans that rise Oh what a surprise our inaction decides I personally must arise to be capable of helping outside In every second of my mind I am fighting the lies I am trying to confide the thoughts I write with pride So recite it I will but I must apply it world wide Despite what you say I must hold my sight high As to criticize with bad intention will only confine So I will help in any way that can make your day Or spread, and I state: our minds ARE grace

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2 comments

[n/a] zodiac 29-Apr-05/5:25 AM Reply

I wonder if you read much of the poetry that's written these days. Of course a lot of it is crap, just like most poetry from any time, but I think you'd be really surprised and pleased by some. Check it out.

Robert Pinsky posts a new poem on his Slate.com page every week. They're always pretty good, and you can see them here: http://www.slate.com/?id=3944&;cp=3333.

A recent one has one of my favorite bits of poetry ever:

how scrufty, how
anciently scabby
we, he and I;

how worn, how
self-devoured,
balls and all,
balls, balls and all.

[7] sliver 29-Apr-05/3:17 PM Reply

A well made point, even if it did sound a bit forced.