I Try

I've been in the slumps lately. Things aren't going as I would hope or like them to, and I am tired of trying. Tired of feeling like the only one that has gone without the graceful touch of success.

I try.
They move too fast,
life goes on and time passes by.
Here I am, standing in last.
I try.
Success is far from reach;
gentle, persevering fingers grasp at open air.
It's unfair.
Keeping pace is harder than it looks,
and life can't be taught only with books.
I try.
But darkness closes in and my rewards become scarce;
there's little left here and my eyes grow weak.
My feet are heavy and shoulders bear a mighty weight.
I try.
It's too late.
My mind is holed and I myself am flawed.
Every being is, but I seem to be the ice that's thawed.
My sculpture no longer grand and appealing,
but another mess to have another cleaning.
And so, I try no more.
I try no more.

Until I am driven again to travel a path that's worn;
the souls of shoes made bare to the earth beneath my feet.
Until my raft is more and feels like a naval fleet;
thus strong again with will and courage I am reborn.

Author's Note

An emotional spew; nothing grand, simply a small output of feelings.

Reviews

[Ale]

I feel that many poets greatly underrate how effective rhythm can be. Your use of it here takes your small output of feelings to an ingenious height. I love the way in which you structured this piece and the ease of understanding and atmosphere you created. The final line speaks of redemption and is endearing as well as appreciated. You took feelings and emotions that everyone feels and made them beautiful. Well done.