Published December 6, 2005
It is a scoundrel fact
That there are ends
To things that never
See their own beginnings;
That things can die
Before they are born
Into the process of dying.
It is a melancholy truth
That nothing is known
For sure,
That sunrises are merely the preludes
To sunsets.
Alas,
The mountains tremble
In ignorance of their
Firmness.
As do we,
In ignorance of our God.
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140,637 Literary Works • 673,574 Reviews
I liked it. I wrote something similar but it didn't go over so well. Great job. I liked the thoughtfulness of it and the rhythme.
I'm a wee bit dubious as to the placing of some of your line breaks. 'That things can die' doesn't seem to me to need a line of it's own; just gets a bit disjointed, for me, that's all.
It struck me as a tad on the cliche side, as a poem, but it was quite well written and worded, so I'll let you get away without a brick through your literary window.
spare and refined, quite thought provoking. I thought the rhythm was very effective. very nice writing.
Firstly get rid of the tick on the 'Disable BBCode in this post' then your Pre button will work.
I thought your poem was very good. It really makes you think
philosophical but nice. quite thoughtful.
if anyone knows why the 'pre' button doesn't work for me, please let me know. thank you.