Tuesday, September 8, 2009


You must begin again, they said, and still
He wanders, squanders money, has no will:
His heart refusing what his body needs
His head a fantasy of selfless deeds.

I see him sitting there, a weakened man,
A scar upon his chest, yet smoke in hand –
And momentarily I grieve –

But, suddenly, I realize his life,
The sullen eyes, the aged heart, the strife,
Is not so much his burden as his crime
When so much nothing comes from so much wasted time.


Anonymous said...

hmm. Interesting. Good moral.

William Michaelian said...

A harsh judgment, perhaps, but a really fine poem.


Mother of Perseus said...

wow... that really brings tears to my eyes.
Whatever can be done?
and thus my grieving heart.
And your true realization...
*le sigh*

~im just only me~ said...

Thanks :)... my attempt at heroic couplet...

Mother of Perseus said...

i just read this again, and it still has me teary eyed. it breaks my heart every time.

ash1981 said...

Such a powerful message! Easy to relate. Sad & Dayna called it... heartbreaking.