a poem

Discussion in 'The Artist's Corner' started by TheOceanInside, Oct 25, 2010.

  1. i wrote this when i was feeling down, although it is decently morbid, i liked the feel it gave.

    let me know what you guys think


    As he read the words, the clouds that held the boy up suddenly let their burden fall.

    as the rain fell down from His Kingdom, the boy followed suit.

    and as the rain touched the tops of the houses of the world, the boy went along with them.

    and as the rain slowly made it's way to the heart of the earth, the ocean, the sea, so did the boy.

    there the rain kissed with the sea, who in turn opened up and she the rain and became one.


    The boy sank into the sea, plummeting further into the abyss.

    it is here in the oceanic depths of quiet and darkness that the boy felt alone, that the boy felt abandoned.

    it is here where the lost boy began to pray.

    he prayed for the Lords hand in his. he prayed for salvation and love again.

    he prayed to be carried for he was too tired, too weak.


    The boy soon forgot about hope and strength, love and faith.

    he received no reply, no answer for his wraith.

    and so he made his home in the ocean, in the sea.

    he forgot everything that could be.


    Years passed, the boy woke to find he had passed 60 years .

    tears streamed down the old mans crinkled face, as he looked at himself

    he examined his withered hands, felt the brittleness of his bones.

    he touched his chest, only to feel an icy frost beneath him.

    it was here the man gave up.


    Death then appeared, and followed the man to his bed in the sea.

    the man laid on the ocean floor, and stared up through its depths.

    Death asked if the man was ready, and the man nodded his head.

    as the life slowly drained from the man, he began to cry.

    Death asked the man why he was crying, to which the man replied;

    "I cry because on the eve of my death, no one is here to hold my hand"
     
  2. I really like some of your descriptive lines, particularly the fourth stanza where you really start to build an image.

    Death is frequently the subject of poetry, but I can understand why. It is the single biggest influence on humanity, while the whole concept has so many unanswered questions.

    Good poem. Depressing, perhaps, but good.
     
  3. thanks man, means a lot!
     

Share This Page