Richard’s Wordplayce: Late October Edition

Darkest

When the skies are dark,
And the world is darker,
Monster’s teeth are sharp,
And their claws are sharper,
Heroes lie dead,
Soon they’ll be forgotten,
For at the dark world’s core,
Lies something most rotten,
It often boils to the surface,
With a stench most foul,
And in this dark place,
Evil beasts start to howl,
No!
Cry the priests,
Praying for salvation,
No!
Cry the soldiers,
Fighting for their nation,
No!
Cry the people,
Working away,
But these cries hold no power,
On this frightful day,
What is the point,
If the world’s doomed to fall,
What is the point,
Why struggle at all,
The darkness will come,
Unstoppable it seems,
All light is gone,
Each ray and beam,
So what is the point,
Why even try,
When no matter what,
All are fated to die,
These questions now asked,
Have always found air,
Throughout all the past,
Asked without care,
The answer of course,
When these questions begin,
Is that someone must,
Stand against all the sin,
That someone must,
Take up a blade or a pen,
Yes someone MUST,
Take land to defend,
But what of those questions,
Which when told someone,
Ask who,
Well dear reader,
That someone is you.

Untitled

The work,
All the work,
The unending days,
Never ending,
Never ceasing,
Never even fazed,
How horrendously cruel,
How there is such a waste,
Of all the time,
And that’s not all it takes,
To your friends say goodbye,
You’ll know them no more,
And then bid farewell,
To any paramour,
Make peace with your games,
Apologize to your sports,
All you will do,
Is sit and be bored,
There will be no play,
There will be no sun,
The work held to your head,
Like a miserable gun,
You work and you work,
From dusk until dawn,
Day after day,
Still droning on,
There is no love,
There is no fun,
All is bleak,
But then,
IT IS DONE,
And from your miserable desk,
You jump thousands of feet,
Now you are DONE,
What a marvelous feat,
You play with your friends,
Kiss your love on the cheek,
Why you’ve done so much work,
You’re set for the week,
…,
And yet the work,
Will always return,
From when you’re a novice,
To when you’ve nothing to learn,
For school or for work,
Public or private,
No matter how much you do,
You’ll never escape it.

The path to choose

I do not care for the hands of fate,
I told time from which cliff to leap,
I told them both I chose my own path,
And they could do naught but weep.

Shining soul

I told my doubt to go away,
I told my fear to take a hike,
I knew in my heart that they and I,
Were not at all alike,
Apathy was stronger
Than any I yet knew,
But down to a hellish place,
My apathy I threw,
Now that all of them were gone,
I found myself alone,
And since it was not preyed upon
Oh how my soul shone.

Richard Gimbel

Richard has been writing poetry for 3 years and is a member of the class of 2024.