Here's another bit of poetry I plucked away at today. I really wanted to use the directions of the compass in a poem, sort of comparing the directions of the Earth to the sun and it's relation to your life. It's supposed to be a poem that tells a story, of questioning your own path to finding one out through the course of the poem. I am not sure if I accomplished that or not in the poem itself, but I think it's to a point where I feel like I have done what I can, where I have told what I wanted to say with it. I'd be interested in hearing what you have to say about how that worked, or what kind of feelings you had about the poem.
Anyway, enjoy the poem, I am going to keep plucking away at this keyboard.
In the east,
The sun rose from my feet.
I watched the horizon break,
Never knowing it's own defeat.
Towards the north,
The chills set in my bones.
I saw no sun, just northern lights,
As the cold wind blew its tones.
Down to the south,
The hot and humid days,
I felt the sweat fall from my face,
As the sun beat it's heated rays.
But to the west,
The sun did fall to sleep,
So the day had come to pass,
For the black of night begins creep.
Directions lead us to and fro,
Along the paths which our lives may flow.
North or south, east and west,
May lead us to a place of rest.
Or down a road of love or pain,
Even back along a path once gained.
The compass of our life has no true north,
Only a promise of what may lie forth.
Life's a journey that you take,
Sometimes right, often a mistake.
But to never travel the path ahead,
That's a soul already dead.
So in the east,
The sun burns in the sky,
Breaking the night's hold,
Letting the darkness die.
Still in the north,
The wind may blow so cold,
But in those precious moments,
Life can play itself most bold.
But in the south,
Amid the sun drenched day,
I feel the warmth of light,
When the special moments pass away.
And to the west,
I walk towards the setting sun.
The day has come to it's end,
But life has just begun.
End of Line.