Treasure Island

Igor Wolfson

(26/12/1989)

Dig it


No more power, no more hope
No more need to pull the rope
This is not what you call 'life'
Just because my soul here dies

Endless stress and nerves and strain
No, such pain gives any gain
No such suffering is fine
Should I somehow learn to fly?

But when disaster comes to being
You are your own master, dear
They wont be there to help out
They will just stare until you shout

Get out of your box of problems
Break out from your thoughts of need
For even life allows mortality
For even mind allows to dig this shit

Submitted: Thursday, November 26, 2009
Edited: Sunday, November 29, 2009

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Dig it by Igor Wolfson )

Enter the verification code :

  • Seema Chowdhury (11/26/2009 9:59:00 AM)

    go out of you box of problems.....
    very nice expression. welcome to poenhunter.
    see some of my poems too.
    take care (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Out Of The Light, Michael McParland
  2. Failure, Michael McParland
  3. Flat, Michael McParland
  4. macaroni cheese, lee fones
  5. Flowing Red River, Michael McParland
  6. Forgotten Future, Michael McParland
  7. Respect Demanded In Spades, Terence G. Craddock
  8. Drifting Hell, Michael McParland
  9. Drop In The Bucket, Michael McParland
  10. Enough Hate, Michael McParland

Poem of the Day

poet Helen Hunt Jackson

The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]