A Hundred Years of Solitude

arobot

A Hundred Years of Solitude

 

    I

On the gloomy morning of November

A Hundred Years of Solitude is finished

So many, so much to remember

But all in a puff perished

Fame & shame, phony & glory

EveryThing is but a dreamy story

 

All that bustle & hustle, money & love

Is just struggle against solitude

If only we know there is a final cyclone

Why not give to fate and stay lone

 

 

     II

What a hand

To make metropolitan so magnificent

And then turn it into a waste land

Who can decipher the Parchment

 

What a heart

To paint a world of beauty and glory

Only to wipe it out like sand art

Leaving no one to tell the story

  • Author: arobot (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 24th, 2020 11:35
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 12
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Comments +

Comments1

  • RDS

    Like a mournful dirge your poem plays eloquently with words and heartfelt urges I like it a lot thanks arobot.
    J



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