A Glass Of Water

The glass is smooth, perfect,

Filled to the brim with limpid liquid.

But, a crack appears.

A fissure struggles from base to lip,

Allowing this hope,

This happiness,

To drain forth.

As the water drips,

The lesions spread,

Bringing full to

Half-full,

Until the optimistic approach

Is rendered absolutely obsolete:

Half-full is now an unmistakable untruth.

I am desiccated,

My encouragements for ebullience

Utterly sere and swiftly fading.

Almost emptied.

I briefly wonder how long

Until I shatter absolutely.

Reviews

[Judy Ponceby]

The progression, almost inevitable is the feel of it, of this piece is sure and swift. Your metaphor balanced beautifully, if painfully, in the excellent choice of words. "Half-full is now an unmistakable untruth." I find this line to be brilliant. Your writing skill increases exponentially Sir Ben. I am honored to have read this amazing piece of work.

[Coyote Poetry]

Good questions raised by your poem. After half full. Where do we end up? So many lines stood out in this poem. I like the complete poem. A very good ending to a excellent poem.
Coyote