Occasionally, when I can't think of something worthwhile to write (or I need more time to develop a thought, I'll post something old. Sometimes it will be my bad poetry. Sorry about that.
This is a piece I did for a poetry class. It is written in the form of a
pantoum.
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We run like rain down the cobblestone streets
through shadows of structures centuries old
The echo of footfalls faintly repeat
down halls of history too large to hold.
Through shadows of structures centuries old
past archways where once centurions stood
down halls of history too large to hold
joy that replaces the rivers of blood.
Past archways where once centurions stood
our giggling gameplay softly resounds.
Joy that replaces the rivers of blood
And softens still lingering battle sounds.
Our giggling gameplay softly resounds
Wafting gently to the arena floor
And softens still lingering battle sounds
From struggles settled centuries before.
Wafting gently to the arena floor
Our parents voices as they call our names.
From struggles settled centuries before
We draw the designs that govern our games.
Our parents voices as they call our names
Lost in the caverns where bodies once lied.
We draw the design that governs our games
Out of the soil where martyrs once died.
Lost in the caverns where bodies once lied
Our spiritual parents prayed for reprieve
Out of the soil where martyrs once died,
Prayed for a pardon they’d never receive.
Our spiritual parents prayed for reprieve
In hallways where we now play hide-and-seek
Prayed for a pardon they’d never receive
for the inheritance promised the meek.
In hallways where we now play hide-and-seek,
Prices were paid that we can’t understand
for the inheritance promised the meek
freedom to happily play hand in hand.
Prices were paid that we can’t understand
These histories now are simply our play.
Freedom to happily play hand in hand
drives any gloomy reflections away.
These histories now are simply our play
through these ancient archways, dungeons, and floors
we drive all gloomy reflections away
after racing through Coliseum doors.
Through these ancient archways, dungeons, and floors
The echo of footfalls faintly repeat
After racing through Coliseum doors
We run like the rain down the cobblestone streets.
