I should of been a poet.
I should of been something.
I could of been once.
But now, there is nothing.
Nothing but black.
Black in my heart.
Black in my eyes.
Black in the sack.
Black in the skies.
Bubbling, boiling, burning. Black.
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Author:
BlueDays (
Offline) - Published: August 31st, 2017 16:34
- Comment from author about the poem: A reflection. A moment in time. Acknowledging conflict and frustration.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 45
Offline)
Comments4
Only after experiencing black, you will appreciate those bright days.
Well expressed.
Thank you
Not so , not so you will see ... cool poem though
Beautifully written, BlueDays. It is in our blackest moments that we see the light, even if it is only a flicker at first!
Thank you Fred. I like the irony in this, I often write in the moment as the words come to me and so my poems are often raw and then I spend days once they\\\'re published going over and over them.
But in that moment that\\\'s exactly how I felt, black and hopeless. All mixed up, churning and bubbling inside and then I wrote this which contradicts the poem.
Light (or what I would call lust for life) for me comes and goes as quickly as light is made and so I am on a near constant roller coaster but I absolutely agree that without the dark there is no light and both bring wisdom in equal
Measure.
Fine write Bluedays- I have enjoyed reading all your posts.
As I did yours! Chuffed you took the time to read them all and give me feedback. Thank you muchly 😊
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