Thursday, April 30, 2009

Memory

Where memories are made,
is often not where they end,
Like the roots of a tree,
the branches transcend

Where pain has begun,
Is only a silver lined cloud,
Which looms in your mind,
'till the pain has been cowed

Where growth takes its stand,
In the soil of affliction,
Is a field of good fortune,
Where prosperity's an addiction

And to those who suffer,
By the hand of distress,
Fear not and have hope,
For you always progress

5 comments:

  1. I really liked this poem because it is clear and has meaning.

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  2. I like the way you used concrete diction in a metaphorical manner, and I thought the ending was powerful, in a hopeful way.

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  3. Very well done. Word choice was excellent. Zenith's proud for sure.

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  4. this is so good timmmyy.. your word choice is very sophisticated and your message is deep and meaningful. nice job!

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  5. I like this and could see it as a spoken word piece too.

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