Misery Poem by Alicia Patti
Misery
It makes no difference now
that the sun has set on western ground.
Time will toll the age-old tale for posterity
and frown, as sad old men daydream
on park benches, drinking coffee
redolent of rank desperation.
And of their dreams, what are they to me?
My dreams flashed by with the sun in a second
or so, then settled deep down into misery.
dear alicia, the concept is very good. there are golden moments in this poem especially about the old man drinking coffee at the garden benches. however, i thik the ending can be improved by better use of language. there is a lot of potential in this poem toshine.
A fine poem of sad resignation. The aromas linger with the dreams and memories. The Sun will rise again tomorrow, for one and all, and, when it finally sets for each of us, we can only hope that our time was not wasted. Happier thoughts :) jack.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/28/2024 4:16:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Alicia, This is a sad refection on whether we stop wanting our dreams to unfold as we grow old. I'm hoping I never get too old to dream. Jack put it nicely the sun will rise again tomorrow for one and all. Until it finally sets on all our lives as it must, we need our dreams to keep us going. David