Rainbows

Folder: 
Unpublished pieces

 

Small pockets of hope existed
even with the rainbows in the sky
 
I was thinking of when we were boys
hearing our voices again as we argued
the fate of the world
 
Young men, strong in opinion yet
weak in conviction
 
We believed in everything than
Celebrated together the joys of
our manhood
 
Independence at last and we certainly
were free.
 
But it was not to last and the crickets
chirped in the fields around us
as we aged and changed
 
I am remembering now our sense
of straying apart as the dogs howl
in the midnight air
 
So many tears ago the rainbows
ceased
to hold any special meaning
 
I stretch and get ready for bed
Will you be in my dreams I wonder?
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jimtwocrows's picture

I can feel this like it was

I can feel this like it was my life, my childhood! It is a kind and sentimental journey.

wishful_thinking's picture

"But it was not to last and

"But it was not to last and the crickets

chirped in the fields around us

as we aged and changed."

 

This is a wonderful poem, and refreshing in its honesty.  Very, very good!

CrowPieD's picture

nothing ever last indeed! fact

crickets will keep singing, what u choose, lost or the joy of one summer, as for the rainbows keep u head up and u will see there have leave.

nice words, metaphors images, childhood, but as u kkkknow from u title nothing ever last....thank u for this.

Herve


Visual poet/ Libertine lost in a labyrinth of complexities, methaphors, searching for the essence/ Ink of life/ death to spell my syphilistic words on the page/ screen.       

sanctus's picture

I appreciate your comments.

I appreciate your comments. It is, to be frank, very difficult to comprehend your meaning. For example, why are there "u's" scattered about your words?

CrowPieD's picture

short cuts

OH SORRY, TO BE HONEST I AM not ENGLISH AS U HAVE.proably GUESS, I LEARNED to write english in 1999, and in london we used lot  of short cut like ur`s, = yours, etc...thank u to point it out, i will try to write no short cuts.

regards, Herve


Visual poet/ Libertine lost in a labyrinth of complexities, methaphors, searching for the essence/ Ink of life/ death to spell my syphilistic words on the page/ screen.       

sanctus's picture

Thank you. My pet peeve, well

Thank you. My pet peeve, well one of many actually, is internet slang. To me, it is just laziness. I mean, how long does it take one to write "you" for goodness sake!?