Hope
Hope is goldenrod yellow.
Hope smells
like the outside air,
Sifting
through the creaking
wooden ceiling boards
of a slave ship,
Reminding the slaves on board
that there is always a chance.
Hope tastes
like a crisp glass
of lemonade,
With a sourness
that is overcome by sweetness.
Hope feels
like an abundance
of warm sun rays,
Shining onto your face
on a clear summer day.
Hope sounds
like a crowded British pub,
Where friendly faces laugh
and drink their stresses away.
Hope speaks
The silky, caressing words
Of an angel
Watching over
With an eternal smile
His arms extended outward
Towards the next day.
I really like how you organized your poem, comparing hope to each of the senses. The sensory detail is clean and organized but still elaborate.
ReplyDeleteI really like the lemonade metaphor for hope. I think that the part about a "sourness overcome by sweetness" really capture hope. I also like the fact that made hope a man--I feel like traditionally hope is portrayed as a woman.
ReplyDeleteI love how you used to five senses to organize it too. While in other poems or writings I see a lot of how hope helps and is useful, this one stands out bc it takes the time to actually describe it and dwell in its meaning :-)
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