this is a poem i wrote for my creative writing class that i am really proud of. i feel like it had all the elements of poems that i want to see when i read poems and to know that i can write as well as the people i read is a huge accomplishment. Ok so here goes:
Destiny led the existentialist to his grave…?
How far are we led by the rope of fate?
Until we have the choice to stop and wait
How long must we be the puppet on a string?
Until we are completely free to truly do anything.
The existentialist, he told the forces that supposedly control
That they could stick it up their supposed hole.
The existentialist, he dictates his own life
How far are we led by the rope of fate?
Until we have the choice to stop and wait
How long must we be the puppet on a string?
Until we are completely free to truly do anything.
The existentialist, he told the forces that supposedly control
That they could stick it up their supposed hole.
The existentialist, he dictates his own life
He states his own destiny
He decides whether to place in his enemy’s back; the knife
He has decided that fate shall not affect he.
He continues his life wary of no fate
Say his life is pre-destined and you, he will hate.
Below is his exemplary cause
That a Parker he was
And his destiny supposedly written
By the bizarre twist of fate and
By the spider, he got bitten.
But a choice he had, of what to do
With his new found power
He could’ve remained pure and righteous or
(Like his enemies) Let his abilities turn him sour.
Destiny, how long do you expect to be my guide?
You never tell truth and never let me decide.
Nor do you take me down the way I long to go
You wish to throw me in your torturous river and expect me to swim with your flow
How long and when are the times when our fates are written in the stars?
That the child that approaches without our knowing will come from Venus or come from Mars.
When the world around us begins to change
But we refuse to bend;
When families are formed and others become estranged.
How will it matter at our end?
He waited for an answer
But he waited only a while
So his beliefs he stood by
And held them with all strength, resolve and guile
And now we come to possibly the best part
To the queasy I warn you
This is not for the faint of heart.
He walks the same road
He decides whether to place in his enemy’s back; the knife
He has decided that fate shall not affect he.
He continues his life wary of no fate
Say his life is pre-destined and you, he will hate.
Below is his exemplary cause
That a Parker he was
And his destiny supposedly written
By the bizarre twist of fate and
By the spider, he got bitten.
But a choice he had, of what to do
With his new found power
He could’ve remained pure and righteous or
(Like his enemies) Let his abilities turn him sour.
Destiny, how long do you expect to be my guide?
You never tell truth and never let me decide.
Nor do you take me down the way I long to go
You wish to throw me in your torturous river and expect me to swim with your flow
How long and when are the times when our fates are written in the stars?
That the child that approaches without our knowing will come from Venus or come from Mars.
When the world around us begins to change
But we refuse to bend;
When families are formed and others become estranged.
How will it matter at our end?
He waited for an answer
But he waited only a while
So his beliefs he stood by
And held them with all strength, resolve and guile
And now we come to possibly the best part
To the queasy I warn you
This is not for the faint of heart.
He walks the same road
And walks the same way
But on the other side of the road
A bank was being robbed that day.
A hostage was kept by a thief
And a gun he held in his hand
He fired off a warning shot
To prove he wasn't yet damned
The bullet hit a building
A loose brick was dislodged
If somebody had warned him
Maybe he could've dodged.
The existentialist could not have known less
Oblivious to the brick making contact with his head
With a thud, he fell and his skull, a bloody mess
It goes without saying of course that he was dead.
Did justice come to the existentialist?
He who always tested the powers-that-be
Or perhaps it was just coincidence?
Such is the mystery of destiny.
But on the other side of the road
A bank was being robbed that day.
A hostage was kept by a thief
And a gun he held in his hand
He fired off a warning shot
To prove he wasn't yet damned
The bullet hit a building
A loose brick was dislodged
If somebody had warned him
Maybe he could've dodged.
The existentialist could not have known less
Oblivious to the brick making contact with his head
With a thud, he fell and his skull, a bloody mess
It goes without saying of course that he was dead.
Did justice come to the existentialist?
He who always tested the powers-that-be
Or perhaps it was just coincidence?
Such is the mystery of destiny.
-Richard Fernandes
No comments:
Post a Comment