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Hope Springs Eternal

by Book_Worm_113

Published April 7, 2007

This poem uses the double acrostic format, so the first and last letters of each line spell out a phrase.


September eleventh: when nightmarish sounds
Echoed throughout our globe.

Pandemonium reigned as Hell staged a coup.
Towers erected as symbols of might
Evanesced from the Earth in one blink of an eye.

Multitudes perished in all of the mayhem;
Bandit's mama was but one to succumb.

Enduring, though, all the horror and bane,
Rays of light gleaming in our darkest hour
Embodied the soul of the great human race.

Legions of heroes answered the call,
Even though some paid the ultimate price.

Valorous deeds, completely improv,
Expressed humanity's penchant for love.
No act of terror will quash our devotion.

Though the future's uncertain, veiled in doubt,
Hope springs eternal, like the phoenix from ash.

Comments & reviews · 3
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Gadi.
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Gadi. commented Comment · Sep 19, 2007

OH-and why does it only say Nine Eleven Th? Where's the rest?

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Gadi.
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Gadi. wrote a review Review · Sep 19, 2007

"September eleventh: when nightmarish sounds
Echoed throughout our globe. "
Why do you tell us that the sounds were nightmarish? SHOW us!

"Though the future's uncertain, veiled in doubt,
Hope springs eternal, like the phoenix from ash. "
Mmm...that was a change in tone, feeling, and word choice. For the worse. Hope springs eternal is kind of cheesy...Choose other words. "Hope" is thrown around too much these days; "Springs" makes me think of metal jumping up and down, not much of something coming back; and "eternal" is just cliche when described together with something like "hope" or "happiness." Instead, say something like "Promise towers infinitely".

I loved the middle. It was very fresh. Well, I can't say I loved it--but I loved the way you wrote it. People can never love 9/11.

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Matt Bellamy
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Matt Bellamy commented Comment · Sep 19, 2007

I liked this. I liked the structure, it kept in line with the format, and wasn't at all forced. A well-written piece.



I was weeping as much for him as her; we do sometimes pity creatures that have none of the feeling either for themselves or others.
— Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights