El Wiseguy
09-19-2006, 09:31 AM
This poem is a giant metaphore but it's pretty clear. If you have any questions on its meaning, please ask. :) It is far from complete as far as refinement goes, but I always keep my originals and this is the beginning of what this work is.
Feel free to share your thoughts. Thanks.
In a Jar
A boy met a girl,
as the story goes.
He fell for her,
and he loved his rose.
The love was passed,
from him to her.
But from her to him,
it was not returned.
She took the love,
and fed off of him.
In a jar she kept,
he filled to the brim.
She's afraid to lose,
his friendship she'd say.
This was the line,
with his heart she'd play.
Yet he's always willing,
to give of himself.
If she ever needed him,
she'd reach to her shelf.
Yet as time passed,
with a twinkle of an eye.
Sitting in his jar,
he slowly began to die.
Until one fateful day,
she reached up once more.
Off the shelf she found,
he was lying on the floor.
Needing a quick fix,
she was in a bind.
Looking at the jar,
his love she couldn't find.
Wondering what went wrong,
she picked him up and asked.
"What about your love now,
I thought it could last."
"You've used and abused me,
now the love's no more.
Now without my love,
I'm dying here on the floor."
She saw him dying,
and she held him close.
The harsh reality hitting,
the blow she's finally dealt.
But there in her arms,
all he ever wanted.
As she cried her tears,
lingering feelings haunted.
Now as it often is,
too late she knows.
Where the love came,
where the love flows.
Now all has stopped,
and now it's all gone.
Now her tears flow,
now sad is the song.
The flower once bloomed,
the flower now dies.
No love was returned,
now dead, love cries.
11:55 PM 8/14/2006
--Brian
Feel free to share your thoughts. Thanks.
In a Jar
A boy met a girl,
as the story goes.
He fell for her,
and he loved his rose.
The love was passed,
from him to her.
But from her to him,
it was not returned.
She took the love,
and fed off of him.
In a jar she kept,
he filled to the brim.
She's afraid to lose,
his friendship she'd say.
This was the line,
with his heart she'd play.
Yet he's always willing,
to give of himself.
If she ever needed him,
she'd reach to her shelf.
Yet as time passed,
with a twinkle of an eye.
Sitting in his jar,
he slowly began to die.
Until one fateful day,
she reached up once more.
Off the shelf she found,
he was lying on the floor.
Needing a quick fix,
she was in a bind.
Looking at the jar,
his love she couldn't find.
Wondering what went wrong,
she picked him up and asked.
"What about your love now,
I thought it could last."
"You've used and abused me,
now the love's no more.
Now without my love,
I'm dying here on the floor."
She saw him dying,
and she held him close.
The harsh reality hitting,
the blow she's finally dealt.
But there in her arms,
all he ever wanted.
As she cried her tears,
lingering feelings haunted.
Now as it often is,
too late she knows.
Where the love came,
where the love flows.
Now all has stopped,
and now it's all gone.
Now her tears flow,
now sad is the song.
The flower once bloomed,
the flower now dies.
No love was returned,
now dead, love cries.
11:55 PM 8/14/2006
--Brian