Tomorrow Once More Versed
If I Only Had One More Day to Live
If I only had one more day to live
I would forget about my aching heart
concentrating within my sidetracked mind
remembering the one who broke my heart
I would procrastinate my tomorrow
bringing to bear each single yesterday
recollecting fondness love death of those
already put out of their misery
I would probably kill my dying heart
declaring all life unremittingly
ignorant of the holocaust to come
striving to live once more versed metrically
when such poetic output would slowly
dry tears fears memories buried within
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Some poetry writes itself when someone writes a set of meaningful words.
About the Creator
Patrick M. Ohana
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
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Hall of mirrors
Things used to matter, before all the noise. And at that time when things still had meaning, there had been dreaming too, when dreams still mattered. And the brightest dream from those times was full of mountains and seas and smiles and the types of passion that absorbs you the way a dog is absorbed by witnessing something for the first time: with absolute presence, and awe.
By Giulia Viti4 days ago in Fiction
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