Life is a library,
with its dusty old pages
and its sensation stories,
so full of possibility.
The words paint colors,
from crimson-hued dragon
to skies of pure azure.
Some characters pop
from the pages where they're held.
But others remain constantly dull,
perpetual wallflowers.
And there's always that unexpected,
altering change of plot.
Life is the Lincoln Tunnel,
beginning immersed in light,
with that dark, dark middle,
until you reach the light
of the other end,
in its infinite cheer.
Life is a pumpkin patch,
with oh so many chances.
But some pumpkin patches
lie in soil almost fallow.
The pumpkins are teensy,
almost rotten, but full
of gutsy, gooey potential.
Life is a stone castle,
rising tall on the horizon,
mysterious but not al-
together scary, simply
a touristy landmark.
Life is life,
shimmering
with tears of
joy and cheer,
toil and fear,
sorrow. Life
is a butterfly,
emerging from
its cocoon,
fearful and awed
by the surrounding
beauty.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
I like it. My favorite stanza is probably the last. It has a different flow than the other lines, but that's okay, because it adds more emphasis on it. I kind of wish that the rest of the stanzas were the same length as eachother so they had more unity. I don't see any spelling or grammar mistakes, so good job! I don't think you should have the word altogether seperated on to two lines, because it kind of messes with the flow. I really like the poem. Similes rock. Nice piece.
-tgirly
Thanks and I didn't mean to offend anyone. I'm a wallflower myself.