An Iwap Poem
PostPosted: Wed Jan 30, 2008 6:30 pm
Well there always comes that time in English class where you have to write a poem. And with myriads of requirements.
Now I usually hate being forced to write something, but this time I think God forced something good out of me. XD I couldn't get the very personal idea-that is not obvious in the poem-to leave me alone.
Enjoy, and ask what it's about if you must.
Now I usually hate being forced to write something, but this time I think God forced something good out of me. XD I couldn't get the very personal idea-that is not obvious in the poem-to leave me alone.
Enjoy, and ask what it's about if you must.
[SIZE="3"]Naïve Beginnings[/SIZE]
Once secluded, a place of youth,
Of education, and a religious coup.
Built as fields, in a place hardly known,
By divine will, to secure the seeds sewn.
When tilled by Time’s hands, the fields grew,
Seeds coming to many from few.
When tilled by Time’s hands, the gardens blooming,
The place became our naïve beginning.
Still secluded, the field of progeny,
Of teaching, and a righteous puppetry.
Under Time’s eye, hands together,
Our friendship was made, to vow forever.
Now renowned, the place of young,
Still of education and religious tongue.
The naïve promise, though strands unwinding,
Still holding fast, but only by-my-willing.
Different will be the field of youth,
Of corruption, and a fallen truth.
Under Time’s storms, ties undone,
Our promise will join seeds gone.
Once secluded, a place of youth,
Of education, and a religious coup.
Built as fields, in a place hardly known,
By divine will, to secure the seeds sewn.
When tilled by Time’s hands, the fields grew,
Seeds coming to many from few.
When tilled by Time’s hands, the gardens blooming,
The place became our naïve beginning.
Still secluded, the field of progeny,
Of teaching, and a righteous puppetry.
Under Time’s eye, hands together,
Our friendship was made, to vow forever.
Now renowned, the place of young,
Still of education and religious tongue.
The naïve promise, though strands unwinding,
Still holding fast, but only by-my-willing.
Different will be the field of youth,
Of corruption, and a fallen truth.
Under Time’s storms, ties undone,
Our promise will join seeds gone.