A Cry is Heard
The plaintive wail of my heart
Wends into the night;
A sort of longing melancholy,
A sense of searching but not finding,
A form of serenity and isolationism.
The pity of it all strikes my heart anew
All that is past cannot be recovered;
My self-being quakes at this misfortune.
© Richard L. Provencher 2008
Comments
Richard L. Prov... | January 28, 2008 - 11:11
This is one of my first published poems. It was published in 1962 under my pen name of Lawrence Reynolds. Thank goodness, males are now openly recognized as poets. Keep writing men. RLP
anipani | January 29, 2008 - 09:28
John Donne,Shakespeare, rupert Brookes, WB Yeats, Ted Hughes, Wordsworth, Coleridge,Brain Patten need I go on? You weren't published because you were male, or read because of gender. This sounds like a bleat. Try being female, and perhaps the idea of male supremacy in the fields of every human endeavour may feel slightly different.
on the poem itself, it seems somewhat stilted, rather looking to explain a human experience rather than bringing a human experience alive to the reader. The word isoltionism is a bit clumsy.