A poem about the struggle to write something "perfect" and the realization that it is impossible.
Where every known emotion will meet.
Pull tight every wrinkle, smooth out every crease.
Cause every soul to stir, when my work they greet.
Are the words inside my heart; are they in my mind?
If this is where the verses lie, can they be released?
Or do they hide outside of me, perhaps to well to find?
Can my pen produce this work, before my life has ceased?
Or will the sand drain from the glass?
The final stamp of failure; like all others that tried.
Alas the test is crooked; no work shall ever pass.
That is the voice of those, who before my birth have died.
There is no perfect destination, nor will there ever be.
The journey alone opens our eyes,allowing us to see.
Poetry by AL DAMORE
Read 744 times
Written on 2006-08-10 at 01:08
Tags Acceptance Perfection Challenges
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The Perfect Piece
Can I write the perfect piece?Where every known emotion will meet.
Pull tight every wrinkle, smooth out every crease.
Cause every soul to stir, when my work they greet.
Are the words inside my heart; are they in my mind?
If this is where the verses lie, can they be released?
Or do they hide outside of me, perhaps to well to find?
Can my pen produce this work, before my life has ceased?
Or will the sand drain from the glass?
The final stamp of failure; like all others that tried.
Alas the test is crooked; no work shall ever pass.
That is the voice of those, who before my birth have died.
There is no perfect destination, nor will there ever be.
The journey alone opens our eyes,allowing us to see.
Poetry by AL DAMORE
Read 744 times
Written on 2006-08-10 at 01:08
Tags Acceptance Perfection Challenges
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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night soul woman |
