Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Two Poem Drafts

Desolation

I was walking once,
a pain upon my side.
I wanted to return;
the way was blocked by pride.
The clouds were dark above,
with malice raining down.
The thunder's call was loud
and rumbled through the ground.

I was walking once,
a pain upon my side,
no hope before my face,
no chance to turn aside.
The hardness of the stone
bit deep into my feet;
the sky was raining down
upon an empty street.

I wish I had a way
to counteract the ache,
with so much on the line,
so much of life at stake.
But my knowledge is a void,
no remedy have I;
but to walk this lonely road
till sun sets and I die.

Where do you go, my friend,
weathered by the rain?
How do you see ahead
through the water and the pain?
I cannot see ahead
through the tears I cry;
but soon I will be dead
when sun sets and I die.

I was walking once;
I walked a lonely road.
The water splashed around,
its message all in code.
Some meaning must it have,
some language born of rain,
but nothing can I hear
through the whisper of the pain.

I was walking once
along an empty street.
The water had a chill
that numbed my weary feet.
All our hope was lost,
the futures all had died;
I just walked alone,
a pain upon my side.

The Box Pandora Broke

We were truly great once,
less in power than in hope;
we lost that hero's laurel
somewhere on this winding road.
And somewhere all our dreams
wandered off and disappeared,
never seen again
in this messy vale of tears.
Would that I were wise,
and knew the future's course;
then the box Pandora broke
might not hold such dreary curse.
Would that I were mighty
beyond the strength of steel;
then perhaps the sea-tide
could be turned by will.
But our wisdom is too worldly,
the knowing wink and sneer
of the lecher who for heartache
or for honor does not care;
our strength is but the mimic
of the bullies that we beat:
we made their brutish wishes
a project to complete.
Look in the child's eyes;
no wonder will you find.
They echo back the darkness
found in yours and mine.
Our hands are mighty clever;
we ape the lives of gods;
we distract ourselves from thinking
and rush on without pause.
We were truly great once;
what's past is not reclaimed.
We will lose ourselves in credit
that is drawn upon our name
until our debt mounts upward
to feed our dread and fear
and we fade away forever
from this messy vale of tears.

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