Is it joy or hope or self-destruction
fueling a mad-dash end and raucous beginning? New
chances and dreams littered among old wreckage
of who we were and are. Mourning helps you
see through empty traditions and false
expectations.
Ring in! Ring in! Ring in!
Was I the only one with my fingers crossed on the 21st?
Ring In! Ring in! Ring in!
Hope and confetti are soon swept away
in a glaring cold, new year’s wind:
We are the same. And today is no
more or less than yesterday.
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The poem matches my feelings of late exactly. Wonderful structure and efficient use of repetition. That final image hits home.
Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed the poem and I greatly appreciate the feedback.