Mira Posted February 5, 2004 Report Posted February 5, 2004 I have mixed feelings about this poem. I feel like somehow I strayed from the original idea, and I might just have to come back and rewrite some of this. Is anything left that's real In this world of love and sin? Is there anything left at all That's worth believin' in? Is everything we use to hold, So very dear within our heart, Been replaced with the progress stain, And left behind to fall apart. And why do we, the melting pot, Always hate the immigrant. That prostitute of heritage Who's culture now ain't worth a spit. They come from lands beyond recall To bend knee to our golden calf. Oh Mighty Buck, we pay homage And pray grant us time and a half.
Jade Posted February 5, 2004 Report Posted February 5, 2004 Modern analysis says we are a 'salad bowl'. Blended, but with unique aspects and flavors.
Parmenion Posted February 6, 2004 Report Posted February 6, 2004 Always enjoy reading what you write Mira. No harm in having a tangent - perhaps that was the destiny of the poem? I believe in such things immagrant and spit dont rhyme unlike the parings in the other verses - but otherwise I fell it should remain untouched... Well done, Parmenion.
Mira Posted February 6, 2004 Author Report Posted February 6, 2004 Ever heard of the term “Approximate Rhyme" Just kidding. Your suggestions and comments have been noted.
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