Time Of Reckoning Poem by Jackie Allen
Time Of Reckoning
Yesterday, he fell into a vat of self
pity, and with intent, stirred up the past...
drank of its bitter wine...
a pathetic, defeated man.
O, morning sun, be thou his true witness...
The hour of reckoning is knocking at
his door...He asks if life‘s rhyme is but a ruse,
and he but a pale shadow?
Lo! Stench of fame and depression walk hand
in hand... the face of his character has
turned his song into a sickening
shade of life gone wrong.
He’s never reflected on the mirror
that resides inside of him... never tried
out the best part of love to see if it fits,
or how well it fits him.
Some days are like fading pages, tattered
torn. He often wonders for what purpose
was he born, and, if it’s possible for him
to find life's meaning?
reason I woke up shortly after midnight so ended up writing this around 1: 30 a.m.
Sometimes I write a few words, some phrases, and send them to my 'working on file.' There I found a few ramblings in that 'working on file' which ended up making their way into this poem...'he but a pale shadow, ' and '.....sickening shade of wrong' which was ehhanced to fit the third stanza, as in the below:
'......the face of his characters has
turned his song into a sickening
shade of life gone wrong.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 8:01:38 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I'm glad you couldn't sleep; otherwise, you may never have written this wonderful poem. I so enjoyed it.