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*Click* The. End.
by Trisha De GraciaJittery
nervous
in fretful anticipation of what can't be changed
what can't be stopped
what isn't even here yet
The tape is still playing
I can't press stop
but it's coming
in short little gasps
each one bringing it closer
we stand upon the cliff
every second
a step to the edge
It can't be moved
there is no control to be gained
and the hearts of billions
beat like war drums through a foggy morning
On and on and on
the tape is playing
someone please press stop.
sobbing through the night
sleep is no aid
simply being is terrifying
it is not endless
it is finite
every single sound
every flash
and the petals falling to the floor
keep the rapid time.
Stop.
But it's still going... 09/02/2003 Author's Note: This poem describes my biggest, semi-constant fear... a piece of me is in these words. It's an odd feeling to have a very personal piece of you frozen in language.
Posted on 09/03/2003
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 09/03/03 at 03:49 AM wowowowow!
i loved reading this piece FAST!! It is so great that each line is short, too. This represents something very personal to you, but I think this is the kind of piece that lots of people can identify with. congrats on an excellent poem!! |
| Posted by Barbara Griffith on 09/03/03 at 04:42 AM I like how you used the tape theory to describe it. But remember, even though the tape has an end, it will still exist after it's stopped playing. |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 09/26/03 at 07:50 PM okay, so i'm supposed to be able to speak after reading this? a biggest fear, amen. the world, spinning, it can't stop, won't stop, and if it ever does? well... then i'm lost, anon. |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 10/05/03 at 01:23 AM This sounds like a SELF- OPERATING-TAPE-RECORDER, which starts on its own when charged by the energies provided by the fear of fear. Even when its fear of fear of death. |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 10/06/03 at 06:25 PM Incredible use of motion and the images of spiraling out of control... the desperate longing for the cessation of animation..... great verse. |
| Posted by Soulo Jacob Bourgeau on 11/23/05 at 08:02 AM This is exemplary. Great job! I have a poem that mimics tapping on a keyboard, but I think your italics and boldface 'STOP' do a better job of capturing the mechanics. Thanks for sharing a piece of yourself. {click 2 favorites} |
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