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A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


Hey all,

I finished my first poem of the month tonight, working from a format I have wanted to kind of go back to for a while now. I knew when I sat down to write my next poem, this was the pattern I was going to use. More or less have a reverberating chorus as the last line of each stanza, and use that as the theme to link each stanza together. Hope you like the poem, not really much needed to explain where it comes from, favored territory of mine to be sure.


The years are changing and ticking on by,

To quick and to far from where they once lie.

It makes me wonder how hard I did try.

Or if it's to late for the tears that I cry.

What was slow now has turned too fast,

And I am afraid that I'll be left last.

In the words that I've written in keys or in pen,

Are the stories I've told I still can't comprehend.

Yet these messages of love and of sorrow I send,

Are not enough to tide me unto the end.

The stone has been cut and the die has cast,

And I am afraid that I'll be left last.

The paths that I walk are lonely to roam,

Just me awash in the indifferent unknown.

My heart is a muscle that I've yet to hone,

For I'm left to plant the seeds I have sown.

Looking for happiness I have never surpassed,

And I am afraid that I'll be left last.

So now its like I just don't understand,

Why my life didn't turn out quite as I planned.

No order throughout the years I have spanned,

The luster has faded from dreams once so grand.

Life is to short, my glory has past,

And I am afraid that I'll be left last.

As the sun comes to set on my fading years,

Where once roaring crowds have silenced their cheers,

My reflection stares back from the empty mirrors,

But all that I see are the doubts and the fears.

The emptiness that consumes me seems so vast,

And now I know that I am the last.

End of Line.

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