Alive
to be alive is to sit in your chair
as the storms devour each fruit in the grove,
wherefore slowly drip dry eyes to a cove
that through torn curtains in broad windows stare.
watching scales incline until they stop fair
together, low moving are heard the drove,
looking for food with a starless sky rove,
and bright the crack from thick whips quickly flare.
a wide porch, cigar in mouth, and a drink
grips a hand that has poured what the night black
has left dead floating at a seashores's brink;
regarding the wind, loose lays set the tack,
thus all like a ship to the deep stunned sink,
drowned cast tall sprout on sands, fluted as wrack.
About this poem
This poem is about the pride of being alive, despite how oppressive life may seem. The fact that we are alive gives us the opportunity to resurface new and brave when we feel that we might drown in some problems that the oppressors create.
Written on May 13, 2023
Submitted by robertrad2021 on May 13, 2023
Modified by robertrad2021 on August 13, 2023
- 39 sec read
- 96 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABBA ABBA CDC DCD |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 645 |
Words | 130 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 3, 3 |
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Citation
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"Alive" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/159291/alive>.
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