The Game Of Life.

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something i wrote in a writers workshop at the local university. enjoy:]

Cool wind rolled through the trees causing is leaves to whisper into the crisp, late august air. The old man let out a great sigh that shook his frail body. He looked out on the flowing river, watching its power and grace washing away his soul. He didn’t want it to end, not her. The running water washed away all feelings of sorrow and replaced it with nothing. He was an empty shell, engulfed in his surroundings. Green trees, lush plants, everything has strength. Except for the man left behind sitting lifelessly on a damp park bench. Life was everywhere, powerful. But with life came vulnerability, it was fragile. What can be given so easily can also be taken away just as quickly. But the river, the liquid abyss, washed it away over time, eroded the sadness living people felt. He was nothing compared to the life that surrounded him. The world and life moves forward, he can’t. Not with the greatest part missing. A shattered mirror, a wilted flower. The small beauty he once called his life was snuffed out so suddenly. It was like she never existed. She was now forgotten, gone with the wind. The old man was totally numb. No one could see him, no one could hear him sobbing uncontrollably into his hands. He was invisible, a life forgotten, like life itself.

Submitted: July 25, 2010

Poetry

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Harshal

Brilliant Charlotte...

When the page opened, and I saw that the article was more like a paragraph, I thought that it was misplaced in the poetry section.

But, as soon as I began reading, I knew why it was meant to be there.

It's not lyrical, does not follow a pattern or have a rhyme or a scheme. But why do you need it?
If you can write so deep a thought in so very beautiful lines, why would one need a scheme.

Charlotee, this poem is truly wonderful.
First of all, for each line that is written, one can associate a picture with it.
Then, after each picture that one visualizes, the poem switches the mood into an unbearable scene or a thought.
And then, it pours out the despair of lonely man through some of the most beautiful images.

That's one hell of a way to write poems. Kudos!!!!

I specially liked the beginning. It's nothing like any of the poems I have read before.

Truly amazing. You are one talented girl.

Harshal