poetry

Do not go gentle into that good night


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

~Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

From The Poems of Dylan Thomas, published by New Directions.

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I Am Lost


I stand still, not moving forwards, nor backwards.

It is a crossroads, and the directions are many.  

Too many.

Which way do I go?

I close my eyes and will my body to just start moving.

It matters not which way,

As long as I am taking one step after another.

Progressing.

But nothing happens.

I am still.

It would seem that my resolve to stay 

Is stronger than my will to carry on.

I am afraid.

Too many wrong turns have already been taken.

I do not know the way.  Why won’t somebody tell me the way?

I see faces pass me by,

But still I remain,

Frozen as the rest of the world goes by.

I beg them, I plead with them,

Help me.

But they don’t look back, the faces of yesterday,

The faces of today,

As they go on their way.

I am alone.

I am lost.

Do I stay here, in this place, and decay?

Please, somebody show me the way.

From childhood’…


From childhood’s hour I have not been as others were;
I have not seen as others saw;
I could not bring my passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken my sorrow;
I could not awaken my heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

~Edgar Allen Poe