Corsa | Teen Ink

Corsa

August 20, 2011
By Aemma SILVER, Ellenwood, Georgia
Aemma SILVER, Ellenwood, Georgia
9 articles 0 photos 7 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity;
and I'm not sure about the universe." -Einstein

"A room without books is like a body without a soul." -Cicero


It grows deeper and deeper into an uncertain oblivion

Swallowing me whole with irrational fears.

Swaying silk like through the rocks of my past

I see the decisions I have come to pass.

My senses subside- see-through in my dominion,

Or lack there of has drowned me in tears.

My eyes are like water, deep and knowing,

Experienced yet throwing

In all the things real and all things none.

I lose myself- unconscious in my past,

Dreams wallow full threw in honest discern.

I dream of my lovers- the deaths of those

So deep and far gone- so cold yet so kind,

So real yet divine in its imaginary time

So sleek yet so wavy in all its loving crime.

I miss the past but I cannot go back,

A slip through the seams, the rocks, yet aghast!

I find myself turned back- around to the past,

Following a route I had never thought would return so fast;

'Why have you let come back to this place?'

I ask,

Wishing so deeply that I could roam as freely

And as unknowingly as water herself.

And the eternal voice answered to me;

'Because you look back on the past so often,

My dear, you senselessly circle your world again.'

'Help me stop.'

I fiercly pleade.

'You know I cannot.'

Says the deepened voice of a Godsman.

And I never heard that dear voice again.


The epiphany had never rest in itself

The thought had become water

Ongoing in its quest.

Taking my breath when I thought of some less,

Carrying me away to the better future's rest,

Drowning me deeper into the silky clutches of grandeur.

Reflecting my future in the brightness above,

Swallowing my past in the darkness below

As it carried me upward in its luminous glove.


The author's comments:
I was trying my hand at writing a poem using water as the metaphor for past/future advancement. And the problems that go along with it.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 1 comment.


on Aug. 24 2011 at 11:09 am
Laura_Oliver GOLD, Manchester, Connecticut
12 articles 2 photos 122 comments
this is a sweet poem. And I would really appreciate it if you could leave some feedback on my poems, like "True Colors" and "When the Storm Will Come".