Category: Writers Block
Stareing at the tapestry. The majesty and the color, it makes me wonder, what will they say.
When I’m gone from this place, the smile, wiped from my face.
Will they see my contribution, or is it all just an illusion’ made up in my ownhead.
I want to see the mark that I’ll leave, if only just a brush stroke.
I don’t want to be just another oak, a passing thought as you take a toke on your cigarette.
I won’t leave it for the historians. Leave it to the good friends; they might go before me..
So long I’ve lived, but always so short is the paragraph.
But what can I leave the yellow, red, and the green, the vibrance was already there.
The Rembrandt’s, Van Goah’s, Chikofski’s,and Liberachi’s;
Exist after dirt becomes flowers, seconds become hours, and days become the decades forgotten yesterdays.
I can’t take credit for what I think is original. , not even my sins.
One person of persons; a one out of many.
Ego begs to be remembered, reality unmercifully declines the request.
But still I try my best to be remembered.
Aww! what a sweet poem. I can't write poetry to save my life.
me either lol
If it was to save your life so you'd come up with something
this is fantastic
I especially like the last two lines:
"Ego begs to be remembered, reality unmercifully declines the request.
But still I try my best to be remembered."
Perhaps this very poem will be your mark. You could certainly do worse.
Thanks. I think I'll remember this poem, and, if I do, I'll remember that you wrote it.
Bob
what poem? who's nem/ hehehehe
Thanks to all of you for posting. Hey Shea, want a bag of nuts to remember me by?
Grins,
Nem-
Wow, I really like the in-line rhymes and the vivid imagery! Also, I think your rhyme scheme is very nice.
It's all right.