"vainest" poems - Hello Poetry

Like the Empire of Rome the dogwood that thought it was an oak has fallen. It lays sideways to reality, its cold roots cling on for grim death, the vainest hope of survival is indeed vain. Its assassins laugh as the death knell rings. Like the Empire of Rome the dogwood that thought it was an oak has fallen. Pagan Paul (07/07/22)

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Jun 9, 2023

Jun 9, 2023 at 9:47 AM UTC

PaganPaul

Fall

Like the Empire of Rome the dogwood that thought it was an oak has fallen. It lays sideways to reality, its cold roots cling on for grim death, the vainest hope of survival is indeed vain. Its assassins laugh as the death knell rings. Like the Empire of Rome the dogwood that thought it was an oak has fallen. Pagan Paul (07/07/22)

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Sing to me a story of a thousand hungry knives, and a thousand innocent backs, and a thousand angry lies. Then sing me the destruction of a thousand mangy lives, the broken hearts that bled for nothing through a thousand crying eyes. The river of tears created was a thousand miles wide, and you could swim to your death in your vainest efforts never reaching the other side. There is no escape from what these knives do, no place to run and hide. So sing to the music you must face, or you will die without your pride. Because when the knives are ravenous they’ll have their taste, but it won't be from the front or the side.

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Jun 19, 2012

Jun 19, 2012 at 9:58 AM UTC

sean-kassab

Back Stabber

Sing to me a story of a thousand hungry knives, and a thousand innocent backs, and a thousand angry lies. Then sing me the destruction of a thousand mangy lives, the broken hearts that bled for nothing through a thousand crying eyes. The river of tears created was a thousand miles wide, and you could swim to your death in your vainest efforts never reaching the other side. There is no escape from what these knives do, no place to run and hide. So sing to the music you must face, or you will die without your pride. Because when the knives are ravenous they’ll have their taste, but it won't be from the front or the side.

1

One day I will transit beyond My strives and thrives to drop. Then, you will tell tales of my kindness Or tales of my weakness Lo, I won't hear none! With time, I will be a memory Once in a while you will remember my stories My smiles or nags will flash in your mind You may regret for not being there You may even doubt my being holy. Well, one day I will be gone My body in the ground alone And spirit in another world. No more me to hate or love Time to count your gain or loss. One day I will be dust Left alone with no more lust My sins and truths before Him That moment to harvest my truths and faults The one that outweighs one determines my cross. Indeed, one day you will wake up in the cold You will meet my body with no soul What will be the reason for your cry? Or will you celebrate it with a smile? Surely, one day will define our vain lives.

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Apr 20, 2019

Apr 20, 2019 at 1:48 AM UTC

victor-ernest-osong

Vainest

One day I will transit beyond My strives and thrives to drop. Then, you will tell tales of my kindness Or tales of my weakness Lo, I won't hear none! With time, I will be a memory Once in a while you will remember my stories My smiles or nags will flash in your mind You may regret for not being there You may even doubt my being holy. Well, one day I will be gone My body in the ground alone And spirit in another world. No more me to hate or love Time to count your gain or loss. One day I will be dust Left alone with no more lust My sins and truths before Him That moment to harvest my truths and faults The one that outweighs one determines my cross. Indeed, one day you will wake up in the cold You will meet my body with no soul What will be the reason for your cry? Or will you celebrate it with a smile? Surely, one day will define our vain lives.

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