Apostrophe Poem by Will Barber


Rating: 5.0

Why is it, do you know, that
Memories of you are silver,
And I stumble onward
Seeking your steep path?

Rough roots obtrude there:
My knees are bloodied,
Yet I scramble on - your glimmer
Easily eludes my grasp.

Scholars speculate:
Is perseverance a virtue?
Ivy twines marble eyes,
Red bricks entomb the words.

Always too late the truth,
Too fleeting the moment,
Too short the breath,
And beauty twists away;

Dreams of dreams,
Memories come again;
Your trace eludes me.
I reluctantly awake.

Another day to seek
A chance to fail, again:
Always the gentle things
Fly upward, and I fall.



Divinely, excrutiatingly bittersweet Will. A tone the nature of which I have not heard from you before. That last stanza... another chance to fail.. look, hang tight, I'll come over and feed you some Mexican food and all will be well! Seriously... a piece to remember, and straight into favourites. My hat off to you. I wish I were able to write so. (love ya) . t x

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Esther Leclerc 02 October 2008

Always the gentle things Fly upward, and I fall. Thank you for posting this poem, Will. I echo Luis' words, below. Esther, your happy friend

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Luis Gil 30 September 2008

Those memories seem deeply rooted. They must hide some meaning. They might persevere to rescue some truth. Beauty slides away but not in this poem.

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Sandra Fowler 29 September 2008

A poem of extraordinary beauty and grace. You have my applause. Fond regards, Sandra

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Goldy Locks 28 September 2008

Gentle, yes. Everything about this is gentle and soft like a floating feather. Will, love it. best care xx sjg

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