Uphill Blues

Reads: 69  | Likes: 2  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 3

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Featured Review on this writing by 88 fingers

Cover image: pixabay.com.

Uphill Blues


When did this rock become a boulder,

this slope become a hill?

I guess the way to reach the top

is through some yet mastered skill.

I’ll pause here for a moment,

my feet I’ll safely brace;

I’m going to reach the hilltop,

but please don’t turn this to a race.


Gravity’s against me,

and this boulder weighs a ton;

sometimes I’d like to just give up,

and wish I’d not begun.

But I have to keep on pushing,

find some way to keep strong,

for if I let the pressure off

I’ll be squashed before too long.


One foot and then another,

my arms they surely ache;

what does this hill demand from me?

How much can I take?

The sweat is dripping from my brow,

my arms and legs do tremble,

I wish I knew just how I could

this boulder disassemble.


Perhaps there’s some solution

if I swallow up my pride,

I need to edge around a bit

and leap straight to the side.

I don’t trust my reaction times,

the ground’s becoming slicker;

if I stop with this eternal push

gravity will turn out quicker.


And so I simply plod along,

the boulder looms above

and it forces all my strength

to focus on the shove.

If I lose my footing,

or forget there is no rush,

this boulder will roll backwards

and then me it’s gonna crush.


Submitted: January 23, 2021

© Copyright 2021 hullabaloo22. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


Mike S.

A great question for us, Hull

Sat, January 23rd, 2021 7:53pm


I don't think the mountain has a top. It just goes on and on and on. Thanks, Mike.

Fri, January 29th, 2021 4:56am

Penny Scribe

I can empathize with this struggle, hul. Well written poem. I do believe that when you get to the top, it will have been worth the effort. True gratification must be earned.

Sat, January 23rd, 2021 8:01pm


Thanks, Penny. To be honest, I'm not so sure the top actually exists at all.

Fri, January 29th, 2021 4:55am

88 fingers

This is basically a poem about everyday life. Not a physical activity, but mostly a psychological aspect of life. Doesn't matter how rich or successful you are, we all have boulders to push up a hill. Very good take on us humans.

Sun, January 24th, 2021 12:00am


Thank you, 88. That is exactly what I was trying to convey in this.

Fri, January 29th, 2021 4:52am

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