Songs from the Last Line

Day 2,150, 23:51 • Published in USA USA • by Aeriadne


A disclaimer: I'm trying something new and going to write some original poetry from the roleplayed point of view of an American citizen. This is the first attempt. Let me know what you think.

~



We fought
like waves against a pond,
balancing leaves on our surfaces
that spoke gentle circles in our traced reflection.

Each seed
falling through this molten
cooling river glass
would dribble down along the pebbled lanes
where all our thoughts amassed.

In Eden's arms we dreamt with grace -
the night so blown away
from our now near drawn shores -
and talked with gods of bigger things
while their frowns pretended smiles
like atheists in foxholes.

And
even
when
we watched the walls close out our promised friends

and
even
when
like storms we danced between new lands and struck

we never stayed
nor cared
for as the sand gives into water
so we gave
to our recompense.

And now
empty cups
and plastic wrappings,
plastered names and bastard games
and no where left to run

and
so
we
sit.

There upon the murk and mire
we stew in indignation,
settled in our stillborn nation,
given to our reservations
of what we all must know.

We are dead bones
drifting through the sinew curtains of a former skin
and cannot
bring
ourselves
to let the hammer strike the pin
and give us all a primer
in what
we should
have done.



Feel free to give me feedback.



Thank you for your indulgence.