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Sherese Gooden Poem
This is not the golden age.
It is the future reeling from
earthquake, hurricanes,
lost innocence, lost generations:
Who will cry?
Their voices are muted
beneath the blare of the trumpet sounders
who cry for justice: human rights,
the environment, save this, save that,
save the world.
They do not see
In the modern world,
after the dark-age, beyond skyscrapers,
escalators and aeroplanes, without concord.
They do not see the muting things
nor hear the muted voices.
In the modern world,
they
do not feel.
Copyright © Sherese Gooden | Year Posted 2012
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Details |
Sherese Gooden Poem
Poems on Soliloquy
I am left foaming thoughts -
a ship without a Captain, at the mercy of
unpredictable winds.
Meandering thoughts
like an unreliable compass
lead me into unknown seas.
Lost says that defeated voice in my head;
lost echoes the ominous voice that I dread.
Broken waves of dreams, dancing fancies
that I dreamt, like mist to the sun’s light,
gone.
Pale paling, fading vapor into frosty silence,
you and I split in the middle;
our dense, muting laughter no longer
covering the reality, you and I torn apart
One minus Two
without death
we part.
Copyright © Sherese Gooden | Year Posted 2012
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