The Circular Poem

The seed of life has now been thrown, Far away to never be grown. It’s now without comfort and lives without home, and will ceaselessly venture this world alone, Throughout all time it will endlessly roam, until one day when earth turns back into stone. Speaking of Rome so glorious and old, There must be hundreds of stories untold Stories of valor, glory, death and of pain, Battles between enemies, one side now slain. The stories of hundreds live in buried bones, And never will they be accurately sewn. What about bones? Well they take skeletal form, and never will feel the comfort of being warm. Tis’ a sad truth that flesh so quickly decays, only for the spirit to live in heavenly ways. Yet beneath the dirt they lack so much life, only to keep the living from viewing death’s only strife. Now we’re back to life, which is where I had started, and this is where I become the dearly departed. However not before I can provide one final theme, Concerning matters of life as a narrowed sun beam. Life is a seed that must forever be known, As a great opportunity to plant near your home.This poem is sorta interesting in that it loops back on itself. Every stanza is adressing the fifth line the previous stanza. "roam" and "Rome", "bone" and "bone, etc. The first stanza begins where the last stanza left on and can be read forever like that. I just thought it would be kinda neat to do something different. Written November 13th, 2001 © on Nov 13 2001 03:07 AM PST   17 • 0 • 12