melting pot
what happens to a poet
who is no longer
compelled to write
an artist
who can no more
pick up a brush
the sculptor
who sees now only straight lines
no curves, no form

what becomes of the teacher
who has lost the will to teach
or the student
who gives up the right to learn

the parent
whose good intentions
are now all but spent
or the child
who lives with indifference
and survives on neglect

what drives them
these lost souls
without their craft
to bind them
their dreams
to inspire them
their spirit
to guide them

into which melting pot
must they be placed
to permit them
rebirth
replenishment
resolution

what is their future
if left as they are

what is the future
for any of us
if we accept
their torpor
for surely that
makes us all
as passive as they.



Comments:
 
kiwigirl   kiwigirl wrote
on 9/13/2009 6:40:05 PM
Thank you very much for your kind words starlingpoet. I truly appreciate your comments and input :-)

Starlingpoet   Starlingpoet wrote
on 9/13/2009 4:23:15 PM
Wow your poem really got me thinking...you picked a great subject for your poem! Beautifully written and doesn't sound preachy.......loved it : )

kiwigirl   kiwigirl wrote
on 9/8/2009 5:55:48 AM
Thanks Michele...and you are right. It didn't really flow well as it was, so I have changed it a little......what drives them, these lost souls There is a lot of indifference and apathy about. Too many people trying to do too much with too little. We have become such a 'must have' society, with little thought of the overall consequences. The outcome is that some will have very little of anything, particularly those on the lower end of the socio-economic scale. The parents' negativity feeds the children, who in turn find their own way out of the mess, often with disastrous results...

Michele   Michele wrote
on 9/7/2009 10:17:02 PM
This is very good--although the verse beginning with 'how do they function...' diffuses a little of its power--don't ask me why--- I especially like the parent/child verse---I seem to see a lot of that today with Labor Day gatherings on my street with unnecessary scoldings and parents too interested in their beer....

kiwigirl
Poetry
Free Verse
writing kiwigirl
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart
--Helen Keller
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