The slivers of bright silver tears



The slivers of bright silver tears
Admits the golden gleams of light
The sad weight of withering years
Make us stronger for freedom's flight
The seed before it blooms a tree
Must fall and die to all outside
New life comes bringing old beauty
And human joy is magnified.
I want to tell you webbed in pain
That dark clouds bring sweet silver rain.
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Submitted on October 07, 2013

Modified on March 05, 2023

19 sec read
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Quick analysis:

Scheme ABCBDEDEFF
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 336
Words 64
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 10

David Smalling

I have been writing poems since I was 12 years; but writing had been my blanket for loneliness since age 11. My father died when I was 13 and poetry was my therapy for pain since then. Only I wanted the world to think, feel, laugh, but not cry. I had been forgotten in the grief of my father's death because everyone else needed the consolation I did not get. I became the even more the withdrawn loner, and saw a world more aggressively hostile. Books became my better friend and drove me deeper into academic seclusion. I wrote thousands of poems everywhere: on rocks, trees, sand, and all over house and school - this was how I interrogate the world, and how I weep alone. Poetry was my quest and comfort. I trusted paper and pen and spoke my truths to them above all else. Yes, I am graduate, a business major, a science major, an humanities major ... still searching for consolation, love, security, and joy obtained in poetry. Then again Jamaica is such an ideal place to live as a poet; the history and memories, juxtaposed against the world, is pure inspiration. more…

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