There was a man I knew Who said: I’m dead inside They lied to me About life. Where is that vital spark That drives so many on? They strive to realize Their passions and their Purpose. Whereas I can fashion Nothing but my misery.
Thanks so much Aoife. Yes, I certainly like aspects of this poem. I’m not sure about the conclusion. Or the argument. I think it could do with refining. But I quite like the structure and the general thrust of the poem. To say that writing poetry is hard is an understatement!
Thank you, Rachel! It's almost a stream of consciousness poem, really. Although, it is anchored in a real conversation, long ago. Thanks so much for reading.
It’s something I happen to believe, Isolde. Life’s not easy. And happiness is ephemeral. So we can only strive against the current, and hope we make a good account of ourselves in the end.
We’re only free when we learn to accept sadness and emptiness. These are part of the human experience and (in my opinion) to mask this and pretend everything is fine all the time, is to choose a superficial existence. We need to feel it all.
This is very true, Izabella. Life's always going to be a struggle, so perhaps one way to keep moving on is to contend. Burying your head in the sand may bring even more misery when difficulties in life arise, because you're not prepared. Cultivate support where you can. Find love if at all possible. But know that it's down to you and you alone when the time comes - which, of itself, is perhaps a kind of freedom. And power.
Yes, Rea. I guess some poems are born out of melancholy. Although, I don't consider myself to be a much of a nihilist. Life is hard. Happiness is fleeting. But perhaps the best things come out of struggle - a sense of self worth that wasn't there before. Although, I'm not sure I communicated it very well in the poem. Thank you for reading, as always.
Thanks Dea. Yes, I suppose the poem is a little bleak. Although, there are seeds of hope there too. Self awareness is both a boon and a curse, I guess.
Thank you so much, Demon Play. I'm glad the poem resonated with you. And yes, going through the motions of life is not life. But in confronting the truth of what life is, then it can sometimes be overwhelming - because it's such a struggle. But there is much to gain from contending, I think. Happiness is fleeting. But cultivating a life based on effort and truth and struggle will feel like you're winning. And in that way lies freedom - if only for a brief while.
Holy heck, what an incredibly powerful poem, Scott!! You are dropping some serious truths in this one - I dig it heaps!!
“Cheating death's not / An option.” This line in particular made me say yes with deep resonance, fantastic!👏✨
Thanks so much Aoife. Yes, I certainly like aspects of this poem. I’m not sure about the conclusion. Or the argument. I think it could do with refining. But I quite like the structure and the general thrust of the poem. To say that writing poetry is hard is an understatement!
Beautiful.
Thank you, Rachel! It's almost a stream of consciousness poem, really. Although, it is anchored in a real conversation, long ago. Thanks so much for reading.
my favorite lines...
"Well, then that’s
The challenge, I say.
To know Life's
All a struggle,
Yet carry on
Anyway. "
Really couldn't agree more with that statement. Wonderful writing as always!
It’s something I happen to believe, Isolde. Life’s not easy. And happiness is ephemeral. So we can only strive against the current, and hope we make a good account of ourselves in the end.
We’re only free when we learn to accept sadness and emptiness. These are part of the human experience and (in my opinion) to mask this and pretend everything is fine all the time, is to choose a superficial existence. We need to feel it all.
Loved your poem. 🤍
This is very true, Izabella. Life's always going to be a struggle, so perhaps one way to keep moving on is to contend. Burying your head in the sand may bring even more misery when difficulties in life arise, because you're not prepared. Cultivate support where you can. Find love if at all possible. But know that it's down to you and you alone when the time comes - which, of itself, is perhaps a kind of freedom. And power.
This is so true, if a little sad. 💞
Yes, Rea. I guess some poems are born out of melancholy. Although, I don't consider myself to be a much of a nihilist. Life is hard. Happiness is fleeting. But perhaps the best things come out of struggle - a sense of self worth that wasn't there before. Although, I'm not sure I communicated it very well in the poem. Thank you for reading, as always.
No, you said it perfectly! I love all your beautiful poems. 🩶🩶
Thank you!
We are all just fools... 💔
Thanks Dea. Yes, I suppose the poem is a little bleak. Although, there are seeds of hope there too. Self awareness is both a boon and a curse, I guess.
Thank you so much, Demon Play. I'm glad the poem resonated with you. And yes, going through the motions of life is not life. But in confronting the truth of what life is, then it can sometimes be overwhelming - because it's such a struggle. But there is much to gain from contending, I think. Happiness is fleeting. But cultivating a life based on effort and truth and struggle will feel like you're winning. And in that way lies freedom - if only for a brief while.