The eyes that spoke one day
are silent now, like a limpid moon
that has lost it's motion
to a dark flying monster.
The hands that waved one day
are pressed to the sides now;
Like a soldier created out of
clay, allowed only one stance.
Confinement changes hands as
my answers fail to hold ground.
My conscience rotten like driftwood
washed ashore, useless and irrelevant.
Hands must move if bridges
have to be built, for distances are the
Essence of a fruitful journey.
I happily pick an unfinished one.
Creative use of simile. A fine, expressive piece. 10, of course. Warm regards, Sandra
Hey, my friend! ! This is brilliant work! Each line can stand on its own or flow together as one. Beautifully written and expressed with great passion.
I like the way the poem starts with 'The eyes that spoke one day are silent now, ' I pray that your journey is unfettered, without any confinement...
Each line well thought through and stating it's own point. A sensitive poem full of good imagery. - - - warm regards - - from Fay
The last four lines aptly brings home the message. Well done
Repenting and realising is to 'happily pick an unfinished one.'....well penned10
A creative piece making effective use of the similie....thought provoking too...good write
nicely done...I loved it it resonated my spirit. Leaving you with that 'aha' moment at the end...10+.
Sort of like a cold bucket of ice water, to make one think.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is a nice work..similar to quotations...every statement has a deep meaning..nicely penned..