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the choice
Contributed by
darkeyedman
on
Wednesday, 30th October 2002 @ 03:20:00 PM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
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The hunchback struggles through the day,
Walking in fear of what others say.
He passes by where the children play
And they all stop and stare.
The bus-stop poet begins to recite
Words wrapped in roses and soft starlight.
The passengers embark into the night,
But the hunchback lacks the fare.
Steam is rising from sewer grates
As a darkened figure stands and waits
For the poet’s words to explain his fate,
Give meaning to his despair.
But the poems were all written in gold
With lips to kiss and hands to hold.
His was the story best left untold,
The moral that life’s unfair.
The hunchback sighed ‘make painful art,
with love gone bad and hurting heart’.
The poet watches his audience depart
But he doesn’t seem to care.
The hunchback walks on down the street
With the foggy day in full retreat,
The moon well hidden and darkness sweet
To curious eyes impair.
My poem, he thought, will be of a soul
Who lacked the fare but paid the toll.
Entered life broken but left it whole.
To gasp, to live, to dare.
Copyright ©
darkeyedman
... [
2002-10-30 15:20:00] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: the choice
(User Rating: 1 ) by Jackee_line on
Monday, 9th June 2003 @ 07:39:41 AM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
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This is good , i really enjoy your poem .
well done. |
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