Sunday, 6 December 2009

There's Always Hope...

Hope Remains
By Mark Cantrell


Hope was always there,
Goading me on,
Pushing,
Always pushing, never letting go.
Hope was with me, a constant
Companion, whether I wanted Hope
Or not; wherever I went,
Whatever I did,
Hope was there, whispering in my ear,
Urging me on, never heeding
Despair.
Hope wouldn’t let me go,
Never let me rest.
Hope, stifling, Hope,
Never any peace, no rest,
Just Hope,
Until I lost it, until the Rage
Finally said ‘ No more!’
That’s when I grabbed Hope, dragged Hope,
Down, into the cellar, dark,
Where I forced it, half-pleading,
Otherwise urging, pushing, nagging
Not to give up on Hope.
But I’d had enough,
Heard enough,
My anger flared, a bullet fired,
I shot Hope dead,
Buried the remains, then
Walked away.
There’s no such thing
As Hope...
Only stinking remains,
Rotting in an unmarked grave.


Mark Cantrell,
Manchester.
22 September 2009

This poem makes its first appearance here.

Copyright © September 2009. All Rights Reserved.


Category: POETRY

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