Shawn

As the block of the writer continues, I hope desperately to crank something out. The imagery and message in this is something that's been plaguing me persistently, but I haven't answered it till now. I suppose it's just about hopelessness. Enjoy.

A leaf at water's edge
struggles, clinging to life's soil;
half submerged, exposing
the twinkling starlight above.
Everything, cherry-picked from
mother's limbs.
Consuming and giving.
Taking and breaking,
falling
down to the forest's feet.
Fleeting moments are
time's betrayal.
One season to live.
One season to die.
Another to rot
downstream.
Far from home.
Sorrow's never sweet.
Alone.
As a browning leaf.
Too forgone.
No hope to save itself.
Why wasn't the tree
ever stronger?

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The most frightening part of leaving a parent's home, to me, is not knowing where one's own home is.

Baron

I don't know how you complain of block when you are still able to produce. I think that there is the potential to make a strong poem with a little editting. The lines in blue are just suggestions.

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Shawn

I'm picky and impatient.

Thank you for your reply.

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The most frightening part of leaving a parent's home, to me, is not knowing where one's own home is.