Blake Bishop

Fairhope, Alabama
Blake Bishop
Fairhope, Alabama
Monday, May 3, 2010

My Last Minute

Rating: 5.0
Our lives are discarded for years,
Until the scar disappears,
Or the fears.

We all feel the pain,
Tried to stay sane,
Here I remain.

Will my life end soon?
Under neath time’s balloon,
Bye swift afternoon.

Bring on the morning rain,
It is life’s cocaine,
Until midnight train.

Then comes His full moon,
Then comes high noon,
I rest maroon.
Blake Bishop
this is a wonderful poem. i love the way you express yourself. you should definitly keep writting.
1 0 Reply
Blake Bishop 04 May 2010
To me it was just coming to an end of life, abandoned and isolated. Like being marooned on an island. And thank you Yoonoos and Matt for yalls comments.
1 0 Reply
Matt Mooney 04 May 2010
A profound poem, simply constructed, for your debut on Poem Hunter. What is the significance of 'maroon'?
1 0 Reply

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