Sitting here
The stroke of midnight
Calls upon my deepest fear
One minute of silence
I give homage
To every wasted tear
Because
I am the compost
Of age and years
My waste of time is my life revered
At midnight
Is a new year
Out of this compost
A chance for happiness
Will appear
Comments
Hi Trouble
You asked about the beginning and end of your poem... I think line 1 adds no value to your piece dont forget your first line is the hook to pull your reader in and the second line is more effective in doing that.
You are obviously trying for a minimalist poem but I think this is so minimalist that it has lost its impact.
I would have liked a stronger message highlighting what you wanted the reader to take away from this. I would have liked to understand what the narrator meant by the compost of life stanza 3 is giving me mixed messages.. I would love to know why the narrator wasted their life and whether that hope for the new year is vain yearning or a possibility and what I as a reader can take from this.
Your ending didnt help me in any way.
I love the idea of this poem and what you could achieve with it but I think its needs to have more imagery.
Sam