Hard Times: (Sonnet)
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The ageing poet hums old lullabies
Amidst this constant satellite sickness.
The pained artist dreams of sweet eternity.
Amidst current, raging, urban madness.
The wise prophet sows seeds glowing with light
Hoping they'll grow into blazing flowers.
Curious seekers follow pathways of night
Until they reach dawn's abiding power.
I walk the streets looking for vital signs
Of life, but all I perceive are flashes
Of neon and the deadening of time.
I now wait and pray as the world crashes.
Although Love still sleeps in the womb of dreams.
Its awakening will surely set us free.
Bu şiiri puanla
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