Hope
A Poem by
Emily B
I fall
like Spring rain
sprinkling the ordinary
with imaginary color.
I drop
drop, drop
from an unseen Hand.
Waiting to be taken
up and begin again,
content in the pattern.
© 2009 Emily B
Featured Review
Emily, this is a beautiful representation of hope and hope's life it gives to us. Like rain, it renews us in every way. :)
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.”
― Emily Dickinson
Posted 6 Years Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
Reviews
I drop
drop,drop
from an unseen hand...
you say so much so sweetly.
Posted 14 Years Ago
I drop
drop,drop
from an unseen hand...
you say so much so sweetly.
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
Yes "Hope" is nourishment for life's delicate flower isn't it; feeding the soul, "I drop, drop, drop from unseen hands."
Wonderful write!
RLG,
Tommy
Posted 14 Years Ago
Yes "Hope" is nourishment for life's delicate flower isn't it; feeding the soul, "I drop, drop, drop from unseen hands."
Wonderful write!
RLG,
Tommy
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
I liked it a lot. short and sweet.
Posted 14 Years Ago
I liked it a lot. short and sweet.
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
I can't believe I missed this one. Flawlessly constructed and beautifully written. I love the concept of the drops waiting for something more...much like the rest of us
Posted 14 Years Ago
I can't believe I missed this one. Flawlessly constructed and beautifully written. I love the concept of the drops waiting for something more...much like the rest of us
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
Your talent is amazing, Emily Burns!!! What you say is obvious, yet so deep.
'Waiting to be taken
up and begin again'...
You take me into those blue, puffy clouds.... I don't want to come home...
Posted 14 Years Ago
Your talent is amazing, Emily Burns!!! What you say is obvious, yet so deep.
'Waiting to be taken
up and begin again'...
You take me into those blue, puffy clouds.... I don't want to come home...
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
Well Emily this is good. I enjoy this. Hope drip drip drops always. Short, simple, and poignant. Ideally thought Hope would be not a pattern but a constant :D
- Ben
Posted 15 Years Ago
Well Emily this is good. I enjoy this. Hope drip drip drops always. Short, simple, and poignant. Ideally thought Hope would be not a pattern but a constant :D
- Ben
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
very beautiful and i could hear and feel the gentle drop.
i love the elegant, fresh aspect of your poetry.
Posted 15 Years Ago
very beautiful and i could hear and feel the gentle drop.
i love the elegant, fresh aspect of your poetry.
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
This is stunning. It reminds me of the act of making art. Whether it be words or paint. Quite lovely. Thank you so much for such beauty.
Light,
Siddartha
Posted 15 Years Ago
This is stunning. It reminds me of the act of making art. Whether it be words or paint. Quite lovely. Thank you so much for such beauty.
Light,
Siddartha
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
A pretty poem, giving charm to the image of the soft Spring rain and the unseen Hand
Posted 15 Years Ago
A pretty poem, giving charm to the image of the soft Spring rain and the unseen Hand
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
i love the title of the poem. the image of the raindrop, the cycle, the fall and rise...
the way it infuses rainbows onto "ordinary" things. beautiful.
this poem is short and sweet and really does capture that elusive idea of hope.
Posted 16 Years Ago
i love the title of the poem. the image of the raindrop, the cycle, the fall and rise...
the way it infuses rainbows onto "ordinary" things. beautiful.
this poem is short and sweet and really does capture that elusive idea of hope.
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
Stats
2284 Views
57 Reviews
Shelved in 4 Libraries
Added on February 5, 2008
Last Updated on August 20, 2009
Author
Emily B Richmond, KY
About
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
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