Within the walls of the colosseum of love.

Within the walls
the colosseum of love,
the amphitheatre of hope
looks on.

Hollow hearts
bitterly, endlessly
fought for love
in lands lost
and leaderless

in the quest
to hold the chalice full
only to become divided
where darkness dawns
their hearts grow weaker.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Your words started out feeling political to me (I just posted a political rant). But then I read Ted's review mentioning gladiators, which puts your poem into a larger perspective over eons. In the end, I'm left thinking about how sometimes we watch the strife in some (any) arena of life, as spectators, not really having a clue as to the lives involved, but only believing the narrative that's being acted out in the arena (again, back to political!) Fondly, Margie

[Ted Kniffen]

Gladiatorial contests unrestricted ... bordered only by stony walls marking the boundaries of love or hate ... as one can change to the other quickly. Hearts grow hollow and the chalice once promising milk and honey is now filled with bitter herbs. The division between the light of love and the darkness that comes before dawn and hearts grow weaker.

A good write, Andrew.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and the poor spectators...they had such anticipation and hoped to come away with faith in love...instead,
they see that love has become a war of hate...
and the program never indicated that would be the tearful finale.
j.

[andrew mitchell]

Thank you for your words J, yes a lot of truth in what you say.