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Open Poetry #43
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The Riddle
| Open Poetry #43 |
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The Riddle |
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Lady Ayla Member
since 2008-07-19
Posts 84WV, United States |
Look at the world as we see it, the destruction of the atmosphere, the bodies decomposing under the ground, once lively humans, full of compassion and hate. Look at the monsters who rape their own, the perverts who kill for pleasure, the torture that every person endures. It’s so depressing that you just might want to kill yourself, to slit your wrist, tie a noose, hear the Click-Clack of a gun, or the rattling of a thousand downers. And some do it-some actually do bleed out, some actually do feel their neck snap, some actually do spray the wall behind them with brain matter and chunks of flesh, and some actually do fall, sleeping into the cold, almost warm embrace of death. But why? There’s no way out of the inedible, so they see no reason to live, like life wasn’t a gift-a chance? They see a chance out-they see angels with feathery wings willing to envelope them. But it’s an illusion, you see. An unknown hand is moving us around like pieces on a sava board. But we fight, we try not to fall in with the crowd, we try not to let our piece on the sava board fall. Because if it falls…what is there to say? Something may happen, but then again not. Life is pain, but you should treasure what makes the pain all worthwhile. It’s hearing the laugh of my father in a happy mood; it’s hearing stories of my grandfather and mother when they were young. It’s hearing the words “I love you” from someone who knows it’s true. It’s saying it back, and also meaning it. It’s hearing “I missed you” from a true friend, and crying while you say it back. It’s laughing till you cry on the bus; it’s being teased by a friend who you miss so dearly that you can’t stand to be mad. It’s the wind against your face, ruffling your hair. It’s the mud squishing between your toes, and the rain pelting your skin. It’s feeling your hair on your bare shoulders; it’s looking at the birthstone ring and knowing those people are important to you. It’s seeing a kitten walk for the first time; it’s hearing their purrs in your ear. It’s the collies that protect, it’s the cousin that jumps on you, arms and legs wrapped around you hugging tight and knowing that one day she will change the world. It’s not knowing what will come next. The meaning of life is like writing your own storybook, only most of the time, you’re not writing the end. ~This is okay to post, right? If not, I'll take it off, just let me know, merci!~ |
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| © Copyright 2008 Heather L. Baker - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Robert E. Jordan Member Rara Avis
since 2008-01-25
Posts 8541Philadelphia, Pennsylvania |
Lady Ayla, I like this a lot. It's well written. What is a Sava board? Bobby |
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Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
I don't know if this is too sad to post but I would like to answer it. There are some terrible things that happen in this world perpetrated by truly fiendish people but I have lived long enough to know that there is more good than bad in this wonderful world that God created. Love, Joyce |
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Lady Ayla Member
since 2008-07-19
Posts 84WV, United States |
I read about a sava board in the book series The War of The Spider Queen-I recommend those books, they really are a good read, and it was descriped sort of like a chess board. I just liked the word sava better than chess for the poem. You are the first person to ask me about that, thank you, Bobby. |
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Artic Wind Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 8080Realm of Supernatural |
I agree with Joyce on this one-- Way more than half of the world is Good. But then. once in awhile, there is the bad apple of the bunch  ARCTIC WIND |
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