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Passions in Poetry

Frantic

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PoeticKnight
Senior Member
since 01-20-2000
Posts 1151
New Orleans, LA


0 posted 03-30-2000 01:16 PM       View Profile for PoeticKnight   Email PoeticKnight   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for PoeticKnight

Frantic is the pace of life
Always moving with greatest unease
Running rats for hands of clock to seize
To slow that frantic pace
Just to save face
In the race,
Of a frantic and hurried life

Cattle herded from here to there
From grazing green to water
From living to slaughter
And all of us in line
Obeying the signs
Just killing time,
Breathing artificial air

The enemy time common to all
Never enough or so it seems
The pace only rests in dreams
How to stop no one knows
Speeding up as it goes
Only once it slows,
Just before the great fall

© Copyright 2000 J.M. Landry - All Rights Reserved
CherylLynnMckee
Member
since 03-28-2000
Posts 219


1 posted 03-30-2000 01:24 PM       View Profile for CherylLynnMckee   Email CherylLynnMckee   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for CherylLynnMckee

It sure feels that way alot of days..I like the comparisons you draw in it.. nicely done.

 
Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 01-22-2000
Posts 18986


2 posted 03-30-2000 08:55 PM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

Running rats for hands of clock to seize
To slow that frantic pace
Just to save face
In the race,
------------
And all of us in line
Obeying the signs
Just killing time,
Breathing artificial air
----------------
bad day at work hon?  
j/k--lol
this is way cool and so sarcastiscly true.
made me think of that Bob Seger song.."Feel Like a Number"...

work is such a waste of good poetry writing time...BUT it does allow SOME of us computer time to play in Passions (not mentioning any names) LOL
stalking you still, your jm



 Do you live by the book, do you play by the rules
Do you care what is thought by others about you
If this day is all that is promised to you
Do you live for the present, the future the past...
tracy chapman

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