These promises we make
Can we really keep them all?
These spoken words
Only soothe those we love.
These words are just that.
Empty verbs and meaningless nouns.
Why must we feel obligated
To soothe those we love?
Feelings thrown in the air.
Do we let them fall?
It is troublesome to catch objects
That we can never see.
A promise is a promise.
Without action it is only sound.
Why fulfill something
That we can never see?
Promises are words.
They can be nothing more.
Now tell me,
How many have you worked toward?
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Comments about this poem (Promises by Devon McElveen )
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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