Cruel waves of life,
washed away,
the beloved house of clay.
Fragile innocent dreams
shattered,
broken apart.
Joyful moments,
turned into,
a painful reminiscence.
Numerous hopes,
buried alive,
in the graveyard
of rigid customs.
What is left now,
is a burning anger,
a strong stubborn wish
emerging like a volcano,
from the dead graves,
to build again,
to dream again,
to live again,
to hope again,
to fight back,
surfing and riding,
the cruel waves of life...
3 comments:
Very nicely put! Have you read the poem 'Invictus'? It's a lovely paraphrasing of what you describe here..
Stumbled on this blog, like it, and now following this! :)
Thank u for liking it and no i was not aware of 'Invictus' but i am now :) Best wishes and thanks again!
to build again,
to dream again,
to live again,
to hope again,
to fight back,
surfing and riding,
the cruel waves of life...
Nice!!!
Wordsworth defined poetry as...
"Emotions recollected in tranquillity."
Here I am feeling it..
With All Best Wishes..
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