Sunday, 11 September 2011

The Lost Generation by Kiersten W.

Oh why have we settled in the unquiet darkness,
where the noise of the silence overwhelms our hearts?
And we fall apart –
the sun sets and it rises –
we make shapes of ourselves no one can see.
Oh why are we lost in these tears
if we’ve forgotten how to cry?
If absence makes the heart grow fonder
can we hold on much longer?
We are burning in a drought of faith,
unnoticing as the stars are earnestly shining,
desperately bleeding light.
Oh how ironically hopeless
is every star’s forgotten fight,
for we are just uselessly drowning
under the weight,
under the honesty of the unspoken.
Oh the noise of the silence overwhelms our hearts.
I believe we are skillfully crafted
inexplicable accidents,
and our hero – the potter –
is too late.


  1. Dear nonamegirl,

    I'm really interested in more philosophical and colorful poetry like this. I'm a student in America, and I realize that is quite a distance from New Zealand, and we're studying the Lost Generation, and I was wondering if you could help with context of author for this poem.


    Ken Stowell

  2. An American reading my blog?! O.O Wowz. May I ask how you found this blog? This is interesting, heh. I'm studying the Lost Generation too in New Zealand (and studying my favourite Lost Generation poet: Thomas Stearns Eliot :D), but this poem is definitely not written by a member of the Lost Generation O.o Kiersten W. is a teen poet.