I always seem to submit my poems into this category, cause I never know where they belong...This is something I wrote after my grandparents died, just kind of letting emotions flow.
Take a chainsaw to it!
A polished rock stands
On a hillside gently sloping
Like a lone ship out to sea
Quietly rocking against waves of green.
Spring has given birth
To new life, new colors
How utterly ironic,
In a place where neither belong.
Seasons change; a guarantee,
Grass turns crisp and leaves fall amber,
And then again, resurrected,
A second chance in a constant cycle.
This stone, though, will never die.
Yet neither will it live,
The wrong sentiment
For this reality.
Tracing fingers against
Cool, hard stone
An unfitting symbol
For those it represents.
Similarities stop,
For stone has no hope,
Thank God that blood
Gives chance for rebirth.
I don't have a good title, any ideas? Review, Please and Thank You!!
