A poem.

[Moroku]

A Walk

I arrived one dreary, wrathful day,
At the lofty cliff where many dead folk lay.
I unshouldered my pack and went on ahead
To pay my respects to the sighing dead.

White lilies bending in the forceful breeze,
I lay them down with little ease.
Through hidden tears, I tried to cope;
I clung to that eternal ersatz hope.

I prayed that she enjoyed her life,
That it was filled with little strife,
That her days of joy flourished and grew
To be picked whenever she was feeling blue.

I could not help but think of mortal purpose,
Of that which binds to this tumultuous surface.
We can all view it countless ways,
But the answer appears only in our end of days.

To what end are we here, then,
Us women and men?

Are we meant to dwell on dream and fantasy
To escape the bleakness of reality?
Should we be content to sigh in ecstasy,
To thrive in vivid memory?

Even if one does combine the two,
It is hardly an end, and there is little to chew.

It is thus out of remembrance we shape our mast,
Although we know it is not built to last.
The seas are rough, they swallow whole,
And in time every bell will halt its toll.

We must all heed nature’s final call,
For it is both beauty and beast, in one, in all.

With this thought I turned away,
And to the cliff’s edge did I stray.

Gazing down that sheer monolith of white,
It seemed inviting, sympathetic to my plight.
I then looked further, to where blue meets blue,
And in doing so noticed something overhead that flew.

A simple gull did I see there;
It could have come from anywhere.
Valiantly it pushed through the gust,
But in vain, for this bird was not so robust.

At that moment there descended a devilish bolt;
To merely behold it could make one moult.
In short, that lone gull flying high had all the luck,
And it was, in an instant, turned into roast duck.

I stood there gawking, quite stupefied,
As nature’s will was satisfied.
That fried bird plummeted into the sea
Which is, apparently, where it was meant to be.

I sank to my knees and wept for a time,
Mourning that creature which had committed no crime.
Standing, I then decided to pray
To that strange force which bids me leave, or stay.

It was then that another bolt did strike,
Flinging away one branch like a pike.
I did not see it, but I heard the toll,
As that same branch slammed into my soul.

Thus, I toppled over the edge,
As if lightly nudged by some divine wedge.

It would seem there was no further need of me,
And so, in time, forgotten I shall be.

[Ralphy]

7/10

[Mathedes]

Woah...

First of all, can't believe I didn't see this poem before.

The rhyming is so superb and daunting. The story is so indifferent to the existence of everything, where the environment is beautiful and yet so cruel. You captured it so well as the character, the bird, and the woman's time were nothing but fleeting moments. It's sad to wonder if they have served their purpose, or if they ever had one at all.

How did you come to write this?

[Moroku]

It was my entry for college's literary/artistic magazine. It was published in the end.

[Mathedes]

That's awesome! Was it like a contest?

[Moroku]

Nope. Just a magazine of the "best" works by artists in the college, whether they be literary or another art form.

[olegis]

nice poem although i barely can understand it..
yeah your poem is good,but mine is better!

drunk girls are so good to drunk guys
booz is so cheap at my local shop
i just saw a black male! my day is superb now!
ouuu **** i just ate some tasty vodkas sammich

[Tiffany]

Wow, you're really good