It's very late, and I'm very sleepy, but I don't feel like sleeping
Everything's gone,
Lost or left
And there's just dust,
Blood and sweat
That remain
All else is pain
Stripped of pride
You wish you'd died
But you survived
To live in isolation
Doomed to try
And regret
But never forget
What is the secret?
posted by Robert Frust at 2:23 AM
6 Comments:
Nice poem...sometimes it's more fun to write them if they don't mean anything, just for the sake of the sound of it.
There actually are junta who write poetry with more of an eye to the structure and sounds rather than the meaning as such. For an extreme example, check this out(http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/492.html),
10/1/06 10:40 AM
The secret lies
in the so-called magic
of life, which makes us smile
even when everything seems tragic.
We always try
To live, to smile, to win
Sometimes we regret, sometimes forget
But life' s happy that we atleast did begin.
If you think
That nothing's left at all
and even death has been denied away
Think again, there's atleast something still, though small.
10/1/06 11:46 AM
MUHAHAHAHAHAHA.. now after two comments, this sound does have some meaning.
10/1/06 12:20 PM
[bofi] thanks.
[taru] didn't get it, sorry. was just having fun, basically. :)
[kd] :)gm
18/1/06 6:46 PM
that's so unexpected of u.
upto u, though. u disappoint me
19/1/06 11:54 AM
blogging for pleasure.. let us write anything we feel like. This is typical fare from you.. i mean poems of this format are periodic occurence for your blog. you do have a talent for creating gloomy imagery.
20/1/06 7:23 AM
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