The Hope that Bloomed Again

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(hey, I haven't post a poem in a long time, but decided I might as well post my latest poem for English. It might be a little cliche and I know I'm out of practice, but it felt refreshing to write a poem again.)

The Hope that Bloomed Again

We never thought our sorrow
Would pool at our feet
In the hoary-gray ashes

Scorched, lifeless vines
Peeled from the blackened stone wall
Wilted, brown roses
Clutching their dead mother
Wishing the cloud-sent tears
Rolling down their once white petals
Would douse the already retreating fire
And awaken her

Some fires never fade into memory
Some ashes are destined to be found
Regret does not dull the flame
But tears quench the fire
Tears of hope

Why did we never dare
In all our dreams
To hope that one day we might see
The roses bloom again?

(As most of you know, I appreciate any suggestions and criticisms - harsh or not. Thanks!)
Last edited by Writersdomain on Thu Apr 06, 2006 2:38 am, edited 2 times in total.
~ WD
If you desire a review from WD, post here

"All I know, all I'm saying, is that a story finds a storyteller. Not the other way around." ~Neverwas




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Well I don't have any advice to give accept to say,"Keep it up and don't give in!" Your poem is wonderful and I really enjoyed reading it.




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okay. your poetry is good. but i noticed a flaw in it because i do the same thing. now - your stanzas make sense and your imagery is wonderful - i'll give you that. although it did make sense, the sentance structure of the poem...if that made any sense...was disjointed. you cannot ramble from image and feeling to image and feeling, however you might get your point across, the sentances...they make no sense.
Carpe Diem.




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As lovely as I am xanthan's twin (Chinese birthday equals hers... lalal) I aggree with the sentence thing... I liked all the imagery. I'm all into this hope thing too, something I gotta keep a hold of you know?

:Peeled from the blackened stone wall
Wilted, brown roses
Clutching their dead mother:

Favorite part... aside from the fact it had roses in it, it had that lovely metaphor of the.... dead mother... *shivers* Eerie.




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Thanks xanthan! Yes, I see what you mean, especially in the first stanza.
~ WD
If you desire a review from WD, post here

"All I know, all I'm saying, is that a story finds a storyteller. Not the other way around." ~Neverwas




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Weird...but good. Keep working on it.




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This is really good, I felt like I was right there with you.



I'll make sure nobody unauthorized runs off with the chamber pot, sir.
— Kaladin (Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson)