I am only a heresy,
Wishing to end this pointless, endless dance
And run off with the sky.
If you could only realize how happy I'll be,
Perhaps, maybe,
You would see your tri-horned crown,
Yours here, drowning in incessant tyranny.
But still, I'm just a tired old coop,
Circling in the same old tune.
I'll only go to everywhere,
Meet the stars so bright in the darkness that
Escaped from your heart (oh, yes),
And to meet the other side of the moon.
For what a cruel joke you play on me,
A ball on a string,
A string you have twirled and twisted and burned so.
I am but a dreamer, for who can ask for more?
I ask for freedom, just nothing more...
Stupid old Sun.
Fiery little fool.
Just remember when you eat me,
You will never taste for good.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
My favorite of this poem was the first three lines:
I am only a heresy,
Wishing to end this pointless, endless dance
And run off with the sky.
Because it was so honest that it just felt right.
The rest felt a little dishonest and perhaps too bitter and sarcastic, but in such a empty way that it left me ambivalent. So that's probably not a good thing.
Before you can really write poetry, you have to sort out your own feelings on whatever you want to write. That is, you don't have to understand it perfectly, but you at least have to sort out your own feelings. And I think you still have to do this. Whatever you're writing about confuses you, and that's okay for now, but if you want it to be truly powerful, you have to work out the emotion yourself and figure out why it's such a powerful emotion for you. Then you shove it back to us.
Good luck with that!