poem #17
David Plantinga 1972 (Sherbrooke)
The trouble started on the day
After the day before.
Youth and hope and love decay,
And regret won’t restore.
It seems this old and weary world
Holds much more bad than good.
I’d have assayed, but I was hurled
In this life before I could.
A world of cloud and bitterness,
A life of scrape and thorn,
So who would ever acquiesce
Ever to be born?
Because briars outnumber flowers
By ten to one at least,
Weakness humbles mighty powers.
Famine goes before the feast.
But feasts are more than fillings ups,
And hunger’s just a pinch.
And emptiness can’t stopper cups,
And straitening can’t cinch.
Bounty and joy are plenitude,
And destitution lack,
So revel in what’s nice, or lewd,
No loss can take it back.
A single flower fortifies
To brush away the burs.
Striving wins because it tries.
Forlorn despairing errs.
About this poem
Terence, this is stupid stuff: no beer here, just entropy. I put a trochee in the second foot of the first line of the fourth stanza for the harshness of it. I also meant the double plural in the first line of the fifth stanza. I also meant to double up on the “evers”.
Font size:
Submitted by DavidPlantinga on July 15, 2021
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 43 sec read
- 7 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABAB CDCD EFXF GHGH IJIJ AKXK EEXX |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 833 |
Words | 145 |
Stanzas | 7 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Translation
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"poem #17" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 31 Oct. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/105068/poem-#17>.
Discuss the poem poem #17 with the community...
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In