03-20-2014, 04:42 AM
"About ten years from now", he said,
"It might hurt less...", you being dead.
A blink of eye, that time I know,
Will pass on by with much to show
Of gifts you gave I treasure dear
Until their day to share appears.
To birth my life was not enough;
The Earth's charm seen 'tis naught a bluff,
You taught so well of life to trust.
Without you now, at times, a bust -
The sense of whom desires hand
Of mine to take and make a stand.
Are you comfortable with the awkward usage that goes on for most of this poem? Do you think the rhymes seem forced?
When helping hand helped shed your fear,
Too young for memories seen clear,
Elicits truth through stories told
Preparing where my path unfolds.
A wish you spoke I wish you wrote
Oft flutters for a queasy float.
Move on I will and grant you yours
On through the never ending moors.
Though memories fade day by day
Of swimmer wading shelter made,
The thoughts of you lift up my day.
I'll not have it another way.
"It might hurt less...", you being dead.
A blink of eye, that time I know,
Will pass on by with much to show
Of gifts you gave I treasure dear
Until their day to share appears.
To birth my life was not enough;
The Earth's charm seen 'tis naught a bluff,
You taught so well of life to trust.
Without you now, at times, a bust -
The sense of whom desires hand
Of mine to take and make a stand.
Are you comfortable with the awkward usage that goes on for most of this poem? Do you think the rhymes seem forced?
When helping hand helped shed your fear,
Too young for memories seen clear,
Elicits truth through stories told
Preparing where my path unfolds.
A wish you spoke I wish you wrote
Oft flutters for a queasy float.
Move on I will and grant you yours
On through the never ending moors.
Though memories fade day by day
Of swimmer wading shelter made,
The thoughts of you lift up my day.
I'll not have it another way.