I am slipping, grasping, rasping for a clutch that I hold so dear.
I am hoping, debating, berating for a hope that I hope still exists.
What does it matter if the orange-hued sun doesn't burn as bright as it once did?
I had a mind that romped gold painted fields and porcelain snow,
and now all that is left absorbs like a sponge and is forced to grow.
If innocence is dead, then count me in.
For I am a desert without the burdens that beautify me.
And what is the dark without the light?
What is death without the life?
I tell myself,
Hope is the strongest emotion of all,
But yet damns us to our most precious pitfall.
Hope is as unreasonable as a prison guard;
holding the keys, beholding the scars.
Hope is that which slips through stone walls and grips the inner soul so hard,
slithering like a snake to poison the heart,
Damaging is breath and corrupting are the invisibilities,
for sometimes the most dangerous cannot even be seen.
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140,121 Literary Works • 673,028 Reviews
Hi there!
I'm really glad I chose to read this poem. I love the rhythm it has to it in the beginning, and the fact that the meaning of this poem was not obvious the first read through, but is still discernible.
The contrast of a saving hope and a false hope, and the parallel to innocence and corruption, is an idea that causes you to stop and really reflect on the poem. It calls attention to how dangerous emotions can be and we don't always realize it.
My favorite part was the end when it talks about hope as if he was a person harming you, helping the reader visualize exactly the kind of damage hope can do. I don't really have anything negative to say about this.
(I'm not really good at writing these reviews but I'm working on it)
I look forward to reading other things by you
Quite the interesting poem you have here. I really enjoyed reading it. Your words don't just flow together. The act as one throughout the entirety of the poem.
Me, being me, I had a hard time figuring out what it is supposed to be be about. I figured towards the end that it is something about the futility of having hope for anything. I like htat you address the idea of "false hope" letting people know that having hope isn't always going to produce happy results.
As for the title, I feel that it is perfect. Yet maybe too obscure. The way I see it, this narrator is has an illusion that they are in control of their life, which to some extent, is very much the truth. However, like a dream, their fate is already decided and they know that.
"If innocence is dead, then count me in" is what clued me in that they might be ready to accept the course of their life. That's what I think anyway.
I hope (See what I did there?) I made sense to you, and that you continue to enjoy your time here, producing wonderful works of art!
~The dark one.
I feel like you understood some parts of the poem more than I did at the time of writing it. I'm the kind of writer that just lets words flow and they end up being about some kind of feeling or story in my life. In this circumstance, there were multiple things, hopes or wishes, that I felt conflicted on. I suppose, in a way, I felt angry that hope was out of my control. But when are emotions ever really in our power? It's funny, really, because our minds can logically tell us one things, but our emotions can be screaming another thing.
First off: I love this. It has a gentle rhythm throughout that has a consistent beat to it. I especially like the idea that hope can be a dangerous feeling, leaving us to have false positive expectations for the future. For me, the beginning part of the poem conjured up a feeling of a childhood that has been lost to time, leaving the author to flatly wonder where it has gone, and shaking it off like a shed skin. As a child, sensory input seems much more overwhelming, and I suppose that people get used to it as they grow. Of course, that might not even be what you were getting at ^^"
~Thank you,
Joelsweet
(PS_ Keep in mind that I am by no means a professional poet)