Skip to main content

THE LAST STANZA

When the ink drops on the page
The persona is tabularasa 
He cares neither of the wind nor calm
The poet is the all-powerful God
Midway the page
The persona loses himself
In the process of self-discovery
Experimentation in the name of experience
For no stroke of the feather is the same
Somehow he knows that the poet decides the last stanza
Whether the story is a happy ending or a tragedy
Despite taking control
The poet is firmly in control
The persona is completely without control
Or maybe the poem is a perfect tango between the will of the persona and the poet
The free will of the persona is as long as the tither of the poet
The twist of his fate is a product of his will
And the desire of the poet
However, the poem ends
The concept is tragic


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

DARK

He sits alone in a silent corner of his dark prison cell Trying to make the world smaller Solitary Trying to make sense of everything that got him to this moment Everything is senseless like the preacher said Life seems to be worth everything Yet everything is worthless in his eyes He wonders why God had to make life in the first place and hopes it is not blasphemy No one wants to step on the toe of God more so those who hope heaven will offer a better home He is ashamed to admit that deep down he longs to be home Home is not this dark room filled with self doubt, anxiety and sorrow Home is where in the least he feels nothing Everyday he tells people to keep hoping but he  has lost all hope The only hope he has is that he will one day hope again Not hope to be rich or famous But to be happy for just a moment He hopes to slip over on his happiest day That is his dream He calculates how best to make his wish come But such days are to pracious to waste on fatal thinking He looks up to...
Post a Comment
Read more

DREAMY DREAM

What is #life without a lofty #dream A dream that seems so distant But the #heart would not let go The heart would not stop believing Even if it were to stop beating A dream beyond death
Post a Comment
Read more

WHEN WORDS WOULDN'T SPEAK

When words have nothing to say But the heart is full What would speak for you? What would speak to you? When the quiet of a heart And the sound of a meldy Would resonate with your truth That words could never say When you have to quietly shout to the world Silenltly tell your story What would speak to you? What would talk to you? When the chrip of birds And the rumbling of a waterfall Would not speak to you When quiet would not do What would speak to you? What would talk for you? What would authentically tell the world your story Authentically Not hiding a single note of the rhythm of your heart What would tell the world your desire Your fears and terror What would speak to you? What would speak for you? An old melody That holds a memory A sound that holds a longing That knows the notes of your heart Would that speak for you? Would it speak to you?
Post a Comment
Read more