Eat The Peach Poem by Hazel Durham
Eat The Peach
Life can be merciless, heartless, careless
And ruthless, just in the process of finding happiness,
Like nature's fleeting bloom,
Winter of our times is like an empty room
Sparse with the echoes of familiar voices,
Some now silent in their cold tomb,
As we reach for the zest and juice of a peach,
But it always seems just out of our reach,
Expectation becomes desperation
For success, love, happiness and the revelation
Of trying to find ourselves in life's goals,
To eat the peach and feel that living is within reach,
Giving is part of living,
Living tries to teach
Us, kindness, goodness as we march forward to the beat of happiness,
We feel the ghosts of our past
Surround us, comfort us and protect us,
As time runs fast
We must realise how special we are without any fuss,
We can then embrace the present and the future,
As we continue to endure,
Because living is an art so pure,
We are full of uncertainties but we can be sure
We can eat the peach it is within our reach!
yes, life can indeed be merciless, voices have fallen into shadow yet we still reach for the peach, giving is part of living and the ghosts of our past keep reassuring us, yes, we are indeed special as endurance is proof positive! A wonderful poem that is deep with experience and a delightful outlook! ! !
As we continue to endure, Because living is an art so pure, We are full of uncertainties but we can be sure We can eat the peach it is within our reach! Great poem Hazel Durham.
All the peaches have a natural taste, but the sweetest peach is NECTARINE (.Prunus Persica) . You are Nectarine of poetry, and I worship you. My special song.
Because living is an art so pure... very inspirational, much enjoyed.
a peachy poem. you start out the poem with pessimism/negativity, ... and end it on a peachy-positive (though not always realistic) note. there is a LOT of reaching going on here! :) (cont.)
Winter of our times is like an empty room... this is so deep and again, realistic in its own way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 1:36:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Winter of our times is like an empty room, wonderful and wisly write, thanks for sharing the poem with us, +++++ 10