Monday, October 8, 2007

By Sara, member of Brand New Aspiring Writers

there’s no inner strongholds
left for surrender

no bunker I could burrow into
in myself

no hearth
no warmth
no happy home
no lovely soul

there is a vast echoless wasteland
withering within

and that

that is all there is

Read more of her work at The Shores of My Dreams.


Brian said...

I like how the poem moves from what there is not, to what there is, which ironically is nothing. The 3rd stanza creates psychological room for this transition. The last line, especially with the repetition of "that" works very nicely.

writerwoman said...

Thank you, Brian, for stopping by here. This blog is still trying to get off the ground and every comment is greatly appreciated.


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