well, I didn't like it, and it took me several tries to write it... but the rest of my class was like (after reading it aloud) *...* damn, I'm not reading mine NOW... lol
My life- a horse galloping across the grassy rolling field, hoofbeats furious, yet liquid and guided by Him.
My life- a kayak, bobbling at every mistake, but can surely be righted with a little help and know-how.
My life- A walk through the forest, roots and brambles as obstacles, the path ahead my goal.
My life- a sedentary researcher, rifling through papers to extract the true meanings and emotions, marveling at new discoveries.
My life- a beautiful gun, promising and loaded, but at the mercy of kind strength and knowledgable hands.
My life- the marble of a statue, rough and untouched until the Sculptor's sharp implements leave their marks.
My life- an entire library! Full of books and thoughts yet to be delved into, some less well-written than others but meaningful all the same.
My life- the hand, reaching: desperately trying to attain the kind nuzzle of a horse's nose, the selfless sacrifice of a mother for her children, the universal language of a smile, a comforting gesture.
My life is everything, it is nothing, it is what I make it to be. As an image is formed into art, as a wood-carver shaves away the unneccessary, as a horseman forms an unbreakable bond between two souls, my life is this way. What will I be?
Poetry by Inchworm
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Written on 2008-09-20 at 04:53
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"My Life"- a college assignment
My life- a vine that twists and turns. Each leaf grows a new opportunity, but its fate is never known.My life- a horse galloping across the grassy rolling field, hoofbeats furious, yet liquid and guided by Him.
My life- a kayak, bobbling at every mistake, but can surely be righted with a little help and know-how.
My life- A walk through the forest, roots and brambles as obstacles, the path ahead my goal.
My life- a sedentary researcher, rifling through papers to extract the true meanings and emotions, marveling at new discoveries.
My life- a beautiful gun, promising and loaded, but at the mercy of kind strength and knowledgable hands.
My life- the marble of a statue, rough and untouched until the Sculptor's sharp implements leave their marks.
My life- an entire library! Full of books and thoughts yet to be delved into, some less well-written than others but meaningful all the same.
My life- the hand, reaching: desperately trying to attain the kind nuzzle of a horse's nose, the selfless sacrifice of a mother for her children, the universal language of a smile, a comforting gesture.
My life is everything, it is nothing, it is what I make it to be. As an image is formed into art, as a wood-carver shaves away the unneccessary, as a horseman forms an unbreakable bond between two souls, my life is this way. What will I be?
Poetry by Inchworm
Read 782 times
Written on 2008-09-20 at 04:53
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Joe Fern |
