Sometimes A Small Image Or A Turn Of Phrase Or Accent Will Jog Your Memory And Blur The Freethinking Thoughtfulness In Your Mind, To Match That Of The Object. The Object Then Stands Out, Like A Pregnant Woman’s Swollen Stomach, Full Of Pride And Impatience For The World Ahead. Takes its Two Hands To Grasp At Straws But Narrowly Misses Them All, To Form A Disapproving Mockery Of Today’s Youth. The Dead End Approaches As If From A Bad Dream, To Shake Your Sub-Conscious Into Thinking Your Dead, When Really You’re Wide Awake Living.
Only Your Shadow Can Fill The Void Of Emptiness, A Space That Will Swallow You Whole, In The Blackness Of Eternity. Boredom Seeps Into Your Veins Like Concrete, Sugar Water, Weighing Heavy On Your Heart And Turns Your Creativity To Stone Before Your Very Eyes, Dead To The World Around You, The World Dead To You. We Are Dead A Long Time, But Are We Living Now.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Thought by Natalie Lavender )
- five past three, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Trapdoor, Pradip Chattopadhyay
- Gans Veer, Madrason writer
- Be What You Are, Lilly Emery
- The abrupt end., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- Native land., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- Believe in Yourself Worth, Lilly Emery
- Odd One Out, Nalini Jyotsana Chaturvedi
- Do without It, Anirudh Rawat
- Don't Be Afraid, Lilly Emery
Poem of the Day
- 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
- If, Rudyard Kipling
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns