FACE IVAN PETRYSHYN
A FACE TIRED,
TIRED OF LIFE,
OF THE LIFE, SLEEPY AND DIMMY UNWELCOMING,
DOESN'T UTTER A WORD, DOESN'T CRY,
PROTECTING
THE LAST SPARKLE OF HOPE
FOR THE ASPIRED AND CHERISHED DREAM,
HARDLY COPING
WITH THE RAY OF THE IMPLICIT BEAM,
THE BEAM, MINGLED WITH THE SALAD OF TASTES,
THE TASTES, WASTED IN AN UNNECESSARY FIGHT,
THE FIGHT WITH THE LIGHT,
THE LIGHT, NEVER DEFEATED,
BLEEDING
WITH THE THOUGHTS OF THE NEGATIVE SENSATIONS,
LEAVING
THE STATION
ON THE TRAIN OF THE YEARS,
WEARING
THE GARMENTS OF FEARS AND COURAGE,
WHICH WILL QUICKLY REFILL THE GARBAGE
OF THE HATERED, NON-BELIEF AND MISTRUST,
THRUSTED
ON THE HATS AND THE HAIR
OF THE BEAUTY OF ACTUAL FEELINGS,
DEALING WITH THE INNER WORLDS OF THE HAPPINESS,
NEARLY READY
TO SAY 'YES', CURSING A 'NO',-
ANOTHER GO
OF OUR WEAK INTEGRITY,
RECRUITING
ANOTHER CUSTOMER OF THE MOMENT,
ROAMING
WITH THE THOUGHTS,
PRODUCED BY THE WITS,
BROUGHT
BY THE MORNING TABLOIDS,
FORGETTING
THE CLASSICAL POETRY,-
PROTECTED BY THE DUST OF THE LIBRARY SHELVES,
DWELLING
IN THE HEARTS OF THE AUTHORS,
WHOSE LIVES' PROSE
KNOWS
NO
CLOSURE.
IVAN PETRYSHYN CHICAGO, IL 02/28/07 7:02 PM
Disclaimer: Poetry submitted was implied to be original creation of the person submitting it and not in violation of copyright of others. Contents © Home & Leisure Publishing, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
