Category: Writers Block
I sat and watched the storm,
Ano hurricane could compare,
And then the walls came crashing down,
And I was left standing there,
It seemed I was a helpless bird,
With broken wings and wounds to bind,
And then I knew I could be healed,
By friends and prayers and lots of time.
The hands of time are what I hold,
That gives me strength to carry on,
And now I rise from ashes black,
And slowly try to carry on,
For life's a journey we must take,
With curves and bends and sunshine warm,
But once again I take time's hand,
And now I rise from that great storm.
I like the symbolism in this poem.
Thanks for posting it.
Bob
The people of New Orleans would like this
it's another cracker.
Well, I didn't get to preview before posting. Pressed the post topic button.
Goblin, this is a symbolic thing that happened to me, but I agree the people of New Orleans could relate to this litterally. Thanks for your comments.
It was a pleasure
it's a nice poem
Another inspirational piece. good job.