Regrets Of A Tired Idealist Poem by Sandra Feldman
Regrets Of A Tired Idealist
The end of the rope
Shall soon be pulled,
Getting there very,
Quickly.
Years have gone by,
You start to lose
Hope,
Everything you thought,
Was pure,
Turns acid and grey,
The masks off
The light,
Slim and dim.
For some,
Life is a certain
Road to Hell,
That you regret
Being in.
But too late,
To even object
Things are what
They are,
And you are just a shadow
In a world scared and dim,
Where the chances
Of being happy
Are always very slim.
Wow! This poem knocks 'em dead (no joke intended!) - Hemingway wrote: All men are defeated in the end. That is the way of the universe. We can question, but there exist no answers. It is best to enjoy the little pleasures that life provides- seeing a flight of Ibises, rising like snow in the wind- the weather on a sunny day- and reading a wonderful poem by our ever-shining muse, Sandracita! Thank you for making my day happier!
What a heart-wrenching poem, Sandra. Poets like yourself have truly inspired me. You have given me so much support and encouragement. If not for you, and the others, I would not be putting out 2 books of poetry and 2 songs this year. I predict that this will be my best year to date. And it wouldn't have been possible without all of you! I owe you and the others so very much!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/12/2024 3:48:18 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I love the gloominess of this poem!