First attempt at poetry, if you can call it that.
It's called 'Life'
Growth resonates with letters that are etched upon a stage
stained as if its natural yet rained as fake perceived,
thrives like sunlight to the flower,
unable to stand alone, held by the cane that enables the pain to be unleashed,
life pushed to the limits with a gimmick of tribal success,
the seed if nourished will be lean with courage,
Both beams allowed to see life like the essence of breath,
pictured like a polaroid left wafting in the breeze,
time takes all including that picture soon to be seen.
"Life" is a beautiful poem. I think the only thing it 'might' need is to be broken
into stanzas. Just an example:
Life
Growth resonates with letters
that are etched upon a stage
Stained as if its natural yet
rained as fake perceived,
thrives like sunlight to the
flower
Unable to stand alone, held by
the cane that enables the pain
to be unleashed
Life pushed to the limits with
a gimmick of tribal success,
The seed if nourished will be
lean with courage
Both beams allowed to see life
like the essence of breath
Pictured like a polaroid left
wafting in the breeze.
Time takes all including that
Picture soon to be seen.
Your poem defines the fleeing of time.
What is life except our time spent?
Thank you for sharing this. jt
