I will cry when he dies.
I will cry for the memories of good times.
I will cry for the lost ones we could have had.
I will cry for the heart I know was there.
I will cry for how his life turned out.
I will cry because I love him.
But I will not cry for guilt.
I will know it's the final blow.
I will know it never changed.
I will know it never will.
I will know that it hurts.
I will know the hurt too well.
I will know that I shouldn't.
But I will not know it anymore.
I will live.
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I like the repetition of the "I will" in this poem... kind of like willing oneself to do and to do more... i've got a poem that's a bit similar... i'll copy in in below:
ReplyDeleteI left my home many times
and I roamed the earth in silent pain.
I left the sea for the prairie grass
and I walked alone,
free at last.
Never had a future,
didn't want my past.
I was free at last,
free at last.
I walked through the mountains
in the rain and snow.
And the cold,
moist air blew life in my soul.
And it made me whole,
it made me whole.
I asked the sun and the stars and wind,
who am I in the scheme of things?
Many years later,
the answer it brings,
the answer it brings.
I am a thought in the back of my mind,
I am the shadow that tags behind.
I am a flower in the garden of yore,
I am a child of love for sure.
I am a boy trapped inside a man,
I am a grain in a sea of sand.
I am the earth on which I stand.
I am what I taste,
I am what I see,
I am what I feel,
I am what is real.
I am alive,
I am alive.
And whatever else I am,
it's just until I die.
And then I am just whatever I was.
Thanks Jon. You know though,it seems I get an idea and I just slap it down, (from your poem) you really do perfect the art, much more invisioning. Maybe I just don't take the time, or I just focus on concept rather than image.
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