Happy Birthday to Me


Guts and Glory at 28

Ten years ago, I dreamt up for myself
A path filled with tales I could tell
To be the writer I always wanted
To be. Because I was lacking.

I envisioned this path to be one filled
With just the right ingredients
Of what a "writer" meant to me, and oh,
How I've lived up to that boy's dreams.

But boyhood dreams turned adulthood struggles.
Now, all I'm left with are these tales-
Sick and sordid, but beautiful and grand,
Like cracked cliffs beaten by the sea.




Poetry by Sameen
Read 56 times
Written on 2024-03-19 at 12:46

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
What Larry said. That's a last line worthy of the greats. The whole poem gains our gladly proffered respect, but wowzers, that conclusion!
2024-04-07


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Great concluding metaphor.
2024-03-19


alarian The PoetBay support member heart!
better late than never...I think we got all trapped in some kind of pitfalls...happy birthday
2024-03-19