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I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE.
All these bells and whistles
Slow walks, never hustles.
I want rhythm, I want life.
Not death and illness.
Not death and complaints
The dying here are spoiled
Yet there is nothing they enjoy.
They sit and wait
And sit and complain.
I’m old, I’m blind,
I’m deaf they refrain
“It is almost over”, you want to say
“It is almost over”.
Showing mercy for the first time in the day.
These old, blind and deaf
Show no mercy though.
For you or for me.
They’re too busy,
dying don't you hear?
Don't you see?
| Interesting. You make it sound as if those who are infirmed got the better end of the deal when it comes to life. NBeing a person with health problems, I was a little miffed at first. But as I read it a second time, I gather you are trying to say, their salvation is near, which is death, so why [censored], when others don't have such luck and will have to endure life a little longer. At least that is what I sense when I read this. As for the poem itself, your flow was nice, and your point was quite blunt. I must say, I've never seen a poem like this before. Overall, good writing. |
|| Posted on 2006-06-19 00:00:00 | by Magnolia Steele | [ Reply to This ] || You're both right. But it's the way it ends that references to the reader meaning (in a global philosophy) everybody's life is almost over.|
Making us all deaf, old and blind.
Thanks for the comments
|| Posted on 2006-06-20 00:00:00 | by LadyMerlina | [ Reply to This ] || Yeah, if you were trying to show an exercise in putting emotion across you did well.|
Applause from me for not being afraid to tell it like it is, I really enjoyed this reality check, albeit a rather harsh view of the aged.
Well done poetically
|| Posted on 2006-06-19 00:00:00 | by wewak11 | [ Reply to This ] |