A Sand Poem

The Challenger’s Word: Sand

Provided by the blogger Adriana


Time is luxerios good. Everyone wants more of it; for leizure activities, for meetings with loved ones, for life before it ends. As time flows like a silent river of sand in the desert of life, we wish we could have more. but as sand time is sometimes better confronted in approriate dose.

The style of the poem is simple: A B B A

I give you:

Sand

by Gregor



Silence was the sound she knew. || Silence from within her cage. || It feels like of

millennium age || But had just passed moments few. || First, she screamed out

of her soul, || Knocked hard at the solid glass. || But it continued to harass ||

For losing the illusion of control. || After a while, her bidding stopped. || Just

the silence did remain. || The toneless burden felt in pain, || Being of her

freedom robbed. || Worse than all the lack of sound, || Which she

cannot longer stand || Was the rippling of the sand, || From the

the ceiling to the ground. || It started first when she awoke ||

And it seems to never cease, || So it fills the room with

ease. || The grains of sand her whole body cloak. ||

Free are only her both hands || wound and

tired fighting against || the

never-ending stream

of sands, || which

tries to bring

her life to

ends.

||

Her

body

felt like it is

too late. || Her head

is already beneath || The

surface and she cannot breathe. ||

She is on the edge to suffocate. || But her

mind is still fighting, || Her will to survive immensely

strong. || So her arms start to prolong || the war for life she

was inciting. || Like a train running on coal || she slowly pulled

herself out, || celebrating the sand’s rout, || escaping through the

ceiling hole. || Her body burned like living ember. || She was not free but

still alive. || All in all, it was a worthy strive || To reach the upper, second

chamber. || The room of glass she now is in || Is free of sand, no more left, ||

Being through the time bereft. || Happier she never had been. || All of her joy able

to amass || Turned into unbearable pain. || All her previous efforts are in vain, ||

When someone turned the hourglass!


What do you want the next poem to be about?

Become a Challenger and post your word in the comment section!

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