I walk the dark streets, with unreleased relief from the heat. Pressure surrounds me with silent pain underneath, impecunious reality so I must beseech. Hope standing before me, yet to far to reach. Can't understand my demise, yet everyday I still must rise and breathe. And so again indeed I must try, and try and try and try. Until I succeed.
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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Very moving and intensely worded. They say "try and try until you die." Only the dead stop trying, so live on...
Cynthia
Edwin
Be always safe,
Karen