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Autobiographies
by Bruce W Niedt
Too many are unfinished,
stopped cold in the midst
of a paragraph, a sentence,
promises aborted,
story discontinued.
Some plan their ending,
and write it before the climax,
with apologies, accusations,
expressions of love,
to be found on a table, afterward.
Most try to write
as long as they can,
always thinking there will be
another chapter,
the continuing saga.
But a few say goodbye,
write their acknowledgements,
and know just how to end,
when the hand stops moving
and itÂ’s time to close the book.
01/02/2003 Posted on 01/02/2003
Copyright © 2024 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/06/03 at 05:26 PM Very well put. Despite the title, which in an indirect way is still applicable, I saw this as a description for poems and how they write themselves or at least try, especially that firsat stana. Oh how many unfinished poems I've left abandoned, despite starting them with hopeful intentions. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/06/03 at 05:27 PM OOPS! Should have read: that first stanza |
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