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(20.02.1988 / Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, UK)

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Fresh Cement

Honesty is
a billowing cloak; translucent white, yet
quick to become opaque.

Honesty has
an enemy; a mass of torch-wielding words
with an aim to quash it.

Honesty is
alive; living in the lull in conversation, or
the silent responses to questions.

Honesty has
a secret; few know that Honesty likes
to contradict and confuse.

Honesty is
hard; a rough coarseness that is, so often,
cold to the touch.

Honesty has
no allies; few are prepared to
fight for it’s cause.

Honesty is
soft; a smooth fluidity, comforting
and volumed with substance.

Honesty has
such scent; fresh-mown grass and rose perfume,
fused with a warm Summer’s breeze.

Honesty is
my lover; waits by the radiator
for me to arrive home each day.

Honesty has
a treasured possession; a flawless mirror
in which to admire a flawless reflection.

Honesty is
jealous of nothing; not vain, yet knowing
of being better than all else.

Honesty has
a loud sound; a booming voice which sometimes
lessens. To a quietly-spoken calmness.

Honesty is
the sand beneath your toes on the beach; broken into millions,
and distributed by Nature’s Forces.

Honesty has
red string In it’s pockets; used to bind
and mend the Engine.

Honesty is
a thumbprint in fresh cement; innocent and easy to form,
with a potential for immortality.

Submitted: Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Edited: Thursday, December 09, 2010


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Comments about this poem (A Year by Dan Brown )

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  • Jane Meyer (6/20/2009 11:36:00 AM)

    I like how you compared the contradicting sides of honesty and all the metaphors you used for honesty. I love the title and the ending! I'll admit sometimes I don't know why you compared honesty to the things you did, but I love the poem overall. I used this in my poetry anthology for school because I loved it so much! I credited you for the work, of course.

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