I'm tired, and I've tried.
I trace the lines the others draw with ease,
The polished benchmarks set in careful rows;
I try to bend my spirit to decrees,
To reap the harvest that the garden grows.
I plant the seeds in rhythmic, measured lines,
And water every hope with desperate care,
Yet while their bloom in perfect sunlight shines,
My garden strays to wild and tangled air.
How strange to hold the compass in my hand,
To know the north and seek the steady path,
But find my feet upon a shifting sand,
Defying every rule and aftermath.
I chase the standard, mimic every stride,
I stretch my reach until my fingers fray,
But something in the marrow will not hide,
And drifts, like smoke, a different, quiet way.
It is a lonely, hollow-hearted weight,
To watch them measure life by golden scales,
While I sit outside the heavy, bolted gate,
And watch the wind fill all the wrong-side sails.
I try to be the thing they deem as "right,"
To sharpen edges till they gleam like steel,
But I am morning mist and fading light,
Bound to a rhythm I can only feel.
Perhaps the fault is not in lack of will,
Or failing strength to force the mold to set,
But standing on a strange and solitary hill,
Where standards are a language—unmet, and unmet yet.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: May 30th, 2026 08:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 44
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange, sorenbarrett, Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS, cellinic
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Comments9
You writing is unbelievably good.
All that comes to mind: we all fall short of the glory...from glory to glory!
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my poem and for your feedback. Yes, we all fall short of the glory.
Good write F. You'll get there - whatever good place you're trying to get to!
I thank you for taking the time to read my poem. I hope you're right; I really do.
Friendship, this one hit me hard. The tension between knowing the path others expect and finding yourself unable to walk it feels painfully honest. There is no self-pity here...only exhaustion and truth. Beautiful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you for taking the time to read my poem and provide feedback.
A well composed and rhymed poem that plants its meaning in crops that fail to thrive and course uncertain although one knows the directions. It to me reflects the uncertainties of life and the inability to depend on weather, soil, or seed as a farmer of life's needs for sustenance. I may well be wrong here but that is the feel I get. We are all farmers dependent on the weather, pests and our own labor. In that we have control only over the latter and that leaves us insecure and at times tired for all we did but got no compensation for. Loved it a fave
Thank you for taking the time to read my poem and provide feedback. I appreciate your insight and confirm that your interpretation is spot on.
You are most welcome
This is an amazing poem.Well costructed with perfect rhyme and cadence.A joy to read. The theme on the other hand is a capable person in doubt.The author is not happy with the efforts.From trying hard to plant seeds that grow tangled to watch others measure with golden scales while the author watches the wind fill the wrong sails.There is so much depth here I had to read it twice.An enjoyable read
Thank you for taking the time to read my poem and provide feedback. I appreciate your insight.
A language to be learnt and spoken fluently and effectively....🕊️🙏
Great words and never lose hope, dear poet!
A wonderful deep write, definitely a fave! Best wishes,
Everyone has their day in the sun - so do not despair, but keep trying and when the time is right, your efforts will surely bear fruit...
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