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Literature Text
To tell the grinning furrows of marshland we were expecting
the reeds and cattails to be dancing in their trance -
to tell the perfectly preserved trash we were expecting
the sharp singing of waves against the dock -
would be rude.
But, the water level dropped
and after ninety-something years of the lake just trickling away
the faces of the windows no longer reflected the
strangely spirited waves we loved.
Secretly, I remained only to watch
the ridiculous manners and ways of a dying ecosystem;
I wanted to see each little fish shored up and thrashing,
each hopeless cattail cry the way they all do
when the indifferent lips of time drink their lives away.
The lake died like a human –
one little bit at a time like
the sand in an hourglass trickling away till all that remains is
grinning furrows of marshland and trash.
I have to wonder if begging back every drop of water is worth the trials
when it will only evaporate away again.
I have to wonder if there is a certain point
where the fish would rather stop thrashing and let the darkness sink in
if only their instincts would let them.
There is no honor in the death of a fish.
the reeds and cattails to be dancing in their trance -
to tell the perfectly preserved trash we were expecting
the sharp singing of waves against the dock -
would be rude.
But, the water level dropped
and after ninety-something years of the lake just trickling away
the faces of the windows no longer reflected the
strangely spirited waves we loved.
Secretly, I remained only to watch
the ridiculous manners and ways of a dying ecosystem;
I wanted to see each little fish shored up and thrashing,
each hopeless cattail cry the way they all do
when the indifferent lips of time drink their lives away.
The lake died like a human –
one little bit at a time like
the sand in an hourglass trickling away till all that remains is
grinning furrows of marshland and trash.
I have to wonder if begging back every drop of water is worth the trials
when it will only evaporate away again.
I have to wonder if there is a certain point
where the fish would rather stop thrashing and let the darkness sink in
if only their instincts would let them.
There is no honor in the death of a fish.
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I polished this one up real nice, I capitalized and added punctuation. It's funny - I write all the time yet I rarely ever use complete sentences.
© 2011 - 2024 the3rdlaw
Comments2
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"The lake died like a human –
one little bit at a time like
the sand in an hourglass trickling away till all that remains is
grinning furrows of marshland and trash. "
Beautiful! All of it was fantastically written, but ^ this is my favorite part by far.
The last line is impacting too.
Yay. Good free verse poetry.
You write like a god. xD
one little bit at a time like
the sand in an hourglass trickling away till all that remains is
grinning furrows of marshland and trash. "
Beautiful! All of it was fantastically written, but ^ this is my favorite part by far.
The last line is impacting too.
Yay. Good free verse poetry.
You write like a god. xD