Forums > Social Chat > Threads of poetry
Login/Join to ParticipateGOLD Member
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
Posted:
Its me again, i just can't seem to shut up.
i never mentioned in my intro that i was also addicted to verse and prose, syntaxe and style, words and spaces. I'm an avid reader, and a dedicated poet. I noticed in a few intros that some of you had the pen syndrome too, so i had a bright idea (ergo the lightbulb), why not start a lyrical thread!!!
I know, poems are for pansies, but pansies with eloquence and intellect, so i don't mind the label. I'll go ahead and put one (or two) up just for to start the trend, and hopefully you other creators will join me in my quest to bring something to ponder on for the TV generations.
Writers always dig feedback, good or bad. And besides, a little poetic babble never hurt anyone. Anyway, here goes, one for those ecologists who never seem to be getting anywhere
(R)evolution
Fire leapt up
when continents collided,
Fire rained down
when comets crash-landed.
Punctual as a Phoenix
a shrub sprouted
in a world of Ash;
roots burrowed to hell,
branches burst skywards,
nascent mother-nature cried.
Life
cycled its way
along a strip of time;
serene and perpetual.
Then came Man.
We drank mother's blood
till she starved of thirst,
rolled over,
and died.
Ash returned to Ash.
And then
punctual as a Phoenix
a shrub sprouted...
Yannicus
Its me again, i just can't seem to shut up.
i never mentioned in my intro that i was also addicted to verse and prose, syntaxe and style, words and spaces. I'm an avid reader, and a dedicated poet. I noticed in a few intros that some of you had the pen syndrome too, so i had a bright idea (ergo the lightbulb), why not start a lyrical thread!!!
I know, poems are for pansies, but pansies with eloquence and intellect, so i don't mind the label. I'll go ahead and put one (or two) up just for to start the trend, and hopefully you other creators will join me in my quest to bring something to ponder on for the TV generations.
Writers always dig feedback, good or bad. And besides, a little poetic babble never hurt anyone. Anyway, here goes, one for those ecologists who never seem to be getting anywhere
(R)evolution
Fire leapt up
when continents collided,
Fire rained down
when comets crash-landed.
Punctual as a Phoenix
a shrub sprouted
in a world of Ash;
roots burrowed to hell,
branches burst skywards,
nascent mother-nature cried.
Life
cycled its way
along a strip of time;
serene and perpetual.
Then came Man.
We drank mother's blood
till she starved of thirst,
rolled over,
and died.
Ash returned to Ash.
And then
punctual as a Phoenix
a shrub sprouted...
Yannicus
-Believing that all has been said and done is like mistaking the horizon for the limits of the world. Voltaire.
-Plus je connais hommes, plus j'aime mon chien. Pascal.
SILVER Member
Mumma Hen
6,391 posts
Location: Brisbane, Australia
Mumma Hen
6,391 posts
Location: Brisbane, Australia
Posted:
*BIG GRINS*
that is great.... the cycle continues... flynt and c@ntus are wonderful poets, ucof is known for a little ditty..
I will post some of my own when I get some guts to!!!
*BIG GRINS*
that is great.... the cycle continues... flynt and c@ntus are wonderful poets, ucof is known for a little ditty..
I will post some of my own when I get some guts to!!!
TAJ "boat mummy." VALURA "yes sweetie you went on a boat, was daddy there with you?" TAJ "no, but monkey on boat" VALURA "well then sweetie, Daddy WAS there with you"
GOLD Member
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
Posted:
this great idea of mine doesn't appear to be that great at all, considering the attention it gets...
but i dont care, no, really i don't
*stomps away from the pc muttering about how shallow the world is*
this great idea of mine doesn't appear to be that great at all, considering the attention it gets...
but i dont care, no, really i don't
*stomps away from the pc muttering about how shallow the world is*
-Believing that all has been said and done is like mistaking the horizon for the limits of the world. Voltaire.
-Plus je connais hommes, plus j'aime mon chien. Pascal.
SILVER Member
veteran
1,389 posts
Location: Guelph, ON, Canada
veteran
1,389 posts
Location: Guelph, ON, Canada
Posted:
I used to be able to write, but I've completely lost the abillity to, for some unknown reason... I can't force myself to be able to write, so... I don't know, I'll just have to wait for the day the inspiration comes back, I guess ^_^
But I do think it is a great idea!
~ Bobo
I used to be able to write, but I've completely lost the abillity to, for some unknown reason... I can't force myself to be able to write, so... I don't know, I'll just have to wait for the day the inspiration comes back, I guess ^_^
But I do think it is a great idea!
~ Bobo
wie weit, wie weit noch?
fragst mich, wo wir gewesen sind...
du fehlst hier
member
111 posts
Location: bottom left of the US
111 posts
Location: bottom left of the US
Posted:
I really enjoy lyracists (I know that is spelled wrong), people who, though I dont like R&B and Hip Hop, rap but use words that boggle the mind. I mean they can match the phrases and cylabols and come up with a song that is not only good, but the words make sence and fit the music. That to me is pure raw talent.
I really enjoy lyracists (I know that is spelled wrong), people who, though I dont like R&B and Hip Hop, rap but use words that boggle the mind. I mean they can match the phrases and cylabols and come up with a song that is not only good, but the words make sence and fit the music. That to me is pure raw talent.
Wisdom calls aloud in the street, she raises her voice in the public squares; at the head of noisy streets she cries out, in the gateways of the city she makes her speech:
Sponge
883 posts
Location: Stevenage
883 posts
Location: Stevenage
Posted:
(______insert very nice flowing text here_____)
I used to love verses, I got extra awards for my "Jesus tree" when I was little, I remember that as if it was yesterday i forgot all about that memory, thanks Yannicus! And I got published too!! but only in a local book which goes to "schools of bedfordshire" Now I can't write for [censored]. I'll try and get back to you.....
(______insert very nice flowing text here_____)
I used to love verses, I got extra awards for my "Jesus tree" when I was little, I remember that as if it was yesterday i forgot all about that memory, thanks Yannicus! And I got published too!! but only in a local book which goes to "schools of bedfordshire" Now I can't write for [censored]. I'll try and get back to you.....
Monkeys monkeys and bananas
GOLD Member
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
Posted:
word
yay! attention had been gotten, wikked. Now, orange, what you said truly made my heart pang. You know, when i started writing, i thought that is was like a raw gush of emotion, spilled out into a woven syntactic net of words and punctuation, but it ain't no gush. At first, writing felt like it came out on its own, almost as if the poem already existed a long time ago and was just waiting to come out... but thats bullcrap in fact. Inspiration, that sexy Muse, only comes of her own accord once every six hundred years, the rest of the time you have to buy the b*tch drinks for hours, give her a limo ride to the George V, and make her reach orgasm at least 7 times in an hour before she relinquishes the slightest crumb the good stuff.
To be a writer is to struggle with one's self constantly, on a daily basis, trying to convince one's self that the words are not crap, but might herald meaning if put right at the right time. Only 25 percent of writing is the raw gush, the other 75 percent is rereading, fixing, stylizing, erasing those metaphors that seemed like the most fabulous creations in the world; simply because they don't fit into this particular piece.
If your really into it like i am, you have to force it out. Sometimes i push myself to write perfect crap for two pages, and on the third page it starts getting good, so i erase the first two and go on from there. You realize that you would never have gotten where you are if you didn't push yourself to do it. Force it out, its in there, just squeeze the tube like there is no tomorrow.
The writer is his own enemy, his own critic, and most of all, the first one to put himself down. Its a challenge, but a worthy one.
anyway, here another poem, its a fun one, i'm sure some of you can associate
Insomniac
red-and-blue.
red-eyed smoky stare
staring
at the dull
blue TV or PC glare.
staring without seeing:
thoughts (or are they dreams)
superimposed on square screens;
layer upon layer,
channel after channel,
are my eyelids even open?
blue-and-red.
sun sky blue, blue moon dark,
day or night?
futile distinction
when awake
with no intermission.
red, for the cherry
at the tip of my smokes
been burning back to back
since breakfast
an eternity ago.
red-and-blue.
red hot days, cool blue nights:
one eye red, the other blue
like kiddie 3D glasses
I can’t take off.
blue-and-red-and-blue-and-red:
tic-and-toc-and-tic-and-toc
this ageless revolving clock
is, oh so gently, relentlessly
chipping away
at my sanity.
blue-and-red! Mercy!
I’ll take Death in my bed,
as my friend, my lover, whatever
so long as she is Black.
word
yay! attention had been gotten, wikked. Now, orange, what you said truly made my heart pang. You know, when i started writing, i thought that is was like a raw gush of emotion, spilled out into a woven syntactic net of words and punctuation, but it ain't no gush. At first, writing felt like it came out on its own, almost as if the poem already existed a long time ago and was just waiting to come out... but thats bullcrap in fact. Inspiration, that sexy Muse, only comes of her own accord once every six hundred years, the rest of the time you have to buy the b*tch drinks for hours, give her a limo ride to the George V, and make her reach orgasm at least 7 times in an hour before she relinquishes the slightest crumb the good stuff.
To be a writer is to struggle with one's self constantly, on a daily basis, trying to convince one's self that the words are not crap, but might herald meaning if put right at the right time. Only 25 percent of writing is the raw gush, the other 75 percent is rereading, fixing, stylizing, erasing those metaphors that seemed like the most fabulous creations in the world; simply because they don't fit into this particular piece.
If your really into it like i am, you have to force it out. Sometimes i push myself to write perfect crap for two pages, and on the third page it starts getting good, so i erase the first two and go on from there. You realize that you would never have gotten where you are if you didn't push yourself to do it. Force it out, its in there, just squeeze the tube like there is no tomorrow.
The writer is his own enemy, his own critic, and most of all, the first one to put himself down. Its a challenge, but a worthy one.
anyway, here another poem, its a fun one, i'm sure some of you can associate
Insomniac
red-and-blue.
red-eyed smoky stare
staring
at the dull
blue TV or PC glare.
staring without seeing:
thoughts (or are they dreams)
superimposed on square screens;
layer upon layer,
channel after channel,
are my eyelids even open?
blue-and-red.
sun sky blue, blue moon dark,
day or night?
futile distinction
when awake
with no intermission.
red, for the cherry
at the tip of my smokes
been burning back to back
since breakfast
an eternity ago.
red-and-blue.
red hot days, cool blue nights:
one eye red, the other blue
like kiddie 3D glasses
I can’t take off.
blue-and-red-and-blue-and-red:
tic-and-toc-and-tic-and-toc
this ageless revolving clock
is, oh so gently, relentlessly
chipping away
at my sanity.
blue-and-red! Mercy!
I’ll take Death in my bed,
as my friend, my lover, whatever
so long as she is Black.
-Believing that all has been said and done is like mistaking the horizon for the limits of the world. Voltaire.
-Plus je connais hommes, plus j'aime mon chien. Pascal.
SILVER Member
All the neurotic makings of America's lesser known sweetheart
9,831 posts
Location: body in Las Vegas, heart all around the world, USA
All the neurotic makings of America's lesser known sweetheart
9,831 posts
Location: body in Las Vegas, heart all around the world, USA
Posted:
i'd have to disagree. i've been a writer since i knew how to hold a pen and put it to paper. yes you have to practice and write and write some more and practice some more and revise and write and....
but i feel if you're forcing it, it's not meant to come out. muses are real, they are inside us, and we have to invoke them when we need them. i have rarely sat down when i wanted to write and not been able to bring forth what i wanted. i know everyone is different, and how you need to set the tone to write is different from how i do. there is no ultimate answer i think.
i will share some of my poetry in a bit. i'm not on my home computer so i don't have it with me.
ps...you may want to change the title of the thread to poetry, or something along those lines. makes it more clear what the thread is about so you might get more readers?
Quote:
You know, when i started writing, i thought that is was like a raw gush of emotion, spilled out into a woven syntactic net of words and punctuation, but it ain't no gush. At first, writing felt like it came out on its own, almost as if the poem already existed a long time ago and was just waiting to come out... but thats bullcrap in fact. Inspiration, that sexy Muse, only comes of her own accord once every six hundred years, the rest of the time you have to buy the b*tch drinks for hours, give her a limo ride to the George V, and make her reach orgasm at least 7 times in an hour before she relinquishes the slightest crumb the good stuff.
To be a writer is to struggle with one's self constantly, on a daily basis, trying to convince one's self that the words are not crap, but might herald meaning if put right at the right time. Only 25 percent of writing is the raw gush, the other 75 percent is rereading, fixing, stylizing, erasing those metaphors that seemed like the most fabulous creations in the world; simply because they don't fit into this particular piece.
If your really into it like i am, you have to force it out. Sometimes i push myself to write perfect crap for two pages, and on the third page it starts getting good, so i erase the first two and go on from there. You realize that you would never have gotten where you are if you didn't push yourself to do it. Force it out, its in there, just squeeze the tube like there is no tomorrow.
i'd have to disagree. i've been a writer since i knew how to hold a pen and put it to paper. yes you have to practice and write and write some more and practice some more and revise and write and....
but i feel if you're forcing it, it's not meant to come out. muses are real, they are inside us, and we have to invoke them when we need them. i have rarely sat down when i wanted to write and not been able to bring forth what i wanted. i know everyone is different, and how you need to set the tone to write is different from how i do. there is no ultimate answer i think.
i will share some of my poetry in a bit. i'm not on my home computer so i don't have it with me.
ps...you may want to change the title of the thread to poetry, or something along those lines. makes it more clear what the thread is about so you might get more readers?
I was always scared with my mother's obsession with the good scissors. It made me wonder if there were evil scissors lurking in the house somewhere.
Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.
**giggles**
SILVER Member
not with cactus
2,052 posts
Location: bristol/ southern eastern devon, United Kingdom
not with cactus
2,052 posts
Location: bristol/ southern eastern devon, United Kingdom
Posted:
im a fan of poetry.
i liked yours yannicus.
heres one of mine:
for sadness
i feel so low
so lost
and why wont she speak
(with her muse)
any more
so this is what it feels like
to drown
except even if i was a witch
(so heavy)
id drown now
so i sink into sorrow
despair
water cant kill me
(i wander through the marsh)
sorrow can
im a fan of poetry.
i liked yours yannicus.
heres one of mine:
for sadness
i feel so low
so lost
and why wont she speak
(with her muse)
any more
so this is what it feels like
to drown
except even if i was a witch
(so heavy)
id drown now
so i sink into sorrow
despair
water cant kill me
(i wander through the marsh)
sorrow can
Me train running low on soul coal
They push+pull tactics are driving me loco
They shouldn't do that no no no
GOLD Member
playing the days away
7,263 posts
Location: The Middle lands, United Kingdom
playing the days away
7,263 posts
Location: The Middle lands, United Kingdom
Posted:
Discovery
I took a step
Down the wrong path
According to my peers
They said I was wrong
So I followed there song
Along for years and years
But then I learned
The choice was mine
They should not tell me how
To express my mind
And now I find
I know myself now
L8rs!
CB
Discovery
I took a step
Down the wrong path
According to my peers
They said I was wrong
So I followed there song
Along for years and years
But then I learned
The choice was mine
They should not tell me how
To express my mind
And now I find
I know myself now
L8rs!
CB
Let's relight this forum 
GOLD Member
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
Posted:
It's ALIVE!
excellent form, i like those two poems. I changed the thread title as pounce said it might be more accurate. I get you pounce, and i totally agree, my message just sounded a little assertive because i wanted to get a point across, and thats that if you wait around for inspiration to come, you don't practise enough.
I know that at first i just waited around, and i am a real lazy guy; I put it aside because i didn't feel like it, and when i did sit down to write, i didn't like what i produced, so i didn't do much. This is a tool, one has to be dedicated, because its like a muscle you gotta pump up if you want to be the best writer you can be.
anyway, im debilitated so i'm going to eat and sleep
Y
It's ALIVE!
excellent form, i like those two poems. I changed the thread title as pounce said it might be more accurate. I get you pounce, and i totally agree, my message just sounded a little assertive because i wanted to get a point across, and thats that if you wait around for inspiration to come, you don't practise enough.
I know that at first i just waited around, and i am a real lazy guy; I put it aside because i didn't feel like it, and when i did sit down to write, i didn't like what i produced, so i didn't do much. This is a tool, one has to be dedicated, because its like a muscle you gotta pump up if you want to be the best writer you can be.
anyway, im debilitated so i'm going to eat and sleep
Y
-Believing that all has been said and done is like mistaking the horizon for the limits of the world. Voltaire.
-Plus je connais hommes, plus j'aime mon chien. Pascal.
member
113 posts
Location: Greece/Athens
113 posts
Location: Greece/Athens
Posted:
This extract is from a poem other than those I put my signature on,but it's truth-telling so...:
Live that you might find the answers
You can't know before you live.
Love and life will give you chances
From your flaws learn to forgive . . .
This extract is from a poem other than those I put my signature on,but it's truth-telling so...:
Live that you might find the answers
You can't know before you live.
Love and life will give you chances
From your flaws learn to forgive . . .
Metal Rulezzzzzz!!!!!!!!!!!
SILVER Member
not with cactus
2,052 posts
Location: bristol/ southern eastern devon, United Kingdom
not with cactus
2,052 posts
Location: bristol/ southern eastern devon, United Kingdom
Posted:
hey yannicus
i like this thread, may it live long and prosper.
i was going through all my poems on my computer earlier, and i found this one id totally forgotton about but made sense.
i think i may have stolen some of the lines in it from somewhere.
but i couldnt resist posting it here:
Cover up the smells of dying with cheap perfume
Makes the place seem cleaner
And you watch the swallows dance in the sunset
And it reminds you how this world used to be perfect
Then you watch yourself trying to disappear
Fall away
The shadows call you
But you cant go there
You all ready have to much
You have tasted the unsaved and you cant give it up
But you just wanna leave this place
Where fake advertising and false smiles and the man on the news
Tell you that the world is a better place
[than what?]
but now gareth gates sings someone else's songs
while macdonalds destroy our forests
and Bush threatens to nuke iraq
and our world is covered in waste plastic
a reusable future
refugees die, Blair says youre not wanted here
police blame shootings on culture
don’t stop to blame themselves
and we send nasa into space to find a replacement earth
its our only hope
/asteroid/tsunami/volcano
its all gonna end soon anyway
i think that was written just before they/we did go to war....
i forget thoug
hey yannicus
i like this thread, may it live long and prosper.
i was going through all my poems on my computer earlier, and i found this one id totally forgotton about but made sense.
i think i may have stolen some of the lines in it from somewhere.
but i couldnt resist posting it here:
Cover up the smells of dying with cheap perfume
Makes the place seem cleaner
And you watch the swallows dance in the sunset
And it reminds you how this world used to be perfect
Then you watch yourself trying to disappear
Fall away
The shadows call you
But you cant go there
You all ready have to much
You have tasted the unsaved and you cant give it up
But you just wanna leave this place
Where fake advertising and false smiles and the man on the news
Tell you that the world is a better place
[than what?]
but now gareth gates sings someone else's songs
while macdonalds destroy our forests
and Bush threatens to nuke iraq
and our world is covered in waste plastic
a reusable future
refugees die, Blair says youre not wanted here
police blame shootings on culture
don’t stop to blame themselves
and we send nasa into space to find a replacement earth
its our only hope
/asteroid/tsunami/volcano
its all gonna end soon anyway
i think that was written just before they/we did go to war....
i forget thoug
Me train running low on soul coal
They push+pull tactics are driving me loco
They shouldn't do that no no no
SILVER Member
Carpal \'Tunnel
4,172 posts
Location: Hastings, United Kingdom
Carpal \'Tunnel
4,172 posts
Location: Hastings, United Kingdom
Posted:
i found a stone down by the sea
it was smooth and shiney
and shaped like me
i found a stone down by the sea
it was smooth and shiney
and shaped like me
SILVER Member
not with cactus
2,052 posts
Location: bristol/ southern eastern devon, United Kingdom
not with cactus
2,052 posts
Location: bristol/ southern eastern devon, United Kingdom
Posted:
wow
i loved those three lines
so simple, but so good.
wow
i loved those three lines
so simple, but so good.
Me train running low on soul coal
They push+pull tactics are driving me loco
They shouldn't do that no no no
SILVER Member
All the neurotic makings of America's lesser known sweetheart
9,831 posts
Location: body in Las Vegas, heart all around the world, USA
All the neurotic makings of America's lesser known sweetheart
9,831 posts
Location: body in Las Vegas, heart all around the world, USA
Posted:
ya i agree yannicus. i also take a different stance too because i chose to not become a writer for a living, and for a reason related to that. when i went to college i chose not to study writing because i wanted my poetry to remain and something i enjoyed and didn't have to do in order to put food on the table and keep a roof over my head. i like writing when i want to write because when i'm forced to do it all the time, it takes some of the fun out of it. it's a therapeutic thing for me, so i do it when i feel the need.
ya i agree yannicus. i also take a different stance too because i chose to not become a writer for a living, and for a reason related to that. when i went to college i chose not to study writing because i wanted my poetry to remain and something i enjoyed and didn't have to do in order to put food on the table and keep a roof over my head. i like writing when i want to write because when i'm forced to do it all the time, it takes some of the fun out of it. it's a therapeutic thing for me, so i do it when i feel the need.
I was always scared with my mother's obsession with the good scissors. It made me wonder if there were evil scissors lurking in the house somewhere.
Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons for you are crunchy and good with ketchup.
**giggles**
BRONZE Member
paranoid of gov't conspiracies
217 posts
Location: USA
paranoid of gov't conspiracies
217 posts
Location: USA
Posted:
here's one of my poems hope you guys like it...
All Eternity
I'd wait for all eternity,
Just to be with you alone,
To say that you are only mine.
My love for you abounds through time.
My love, my comfort
My knight in shining armour.
My strength, my dear
My prince charming come near.
Can I wait for you 10 years or more?
For you I could wait forever and a day.
Forever near you and by your side,
Until the day that you decide.
Always yours, I want to be,
Until the very end of time.
Till death parts us one final day
I'll be with you, come whatever may.
Apart from you my love still flows,
Flowing from me, always to you
And your love I can always feel
Sometimes it seems just so surreal.
So until that perfect day,
When the time will be just right.
The day when we can share a life,
I'll wait until I can finally be your wife.
tell me what you guys think of it!~
here's one of my poems hope you guys like it...
All Eternity
I'd wait for all eternity,
Just to be with you alone,
To say that you are only mine.
My love for you abounds through time.
My love, my comfort
My knight in shining armour.
My strength, my dear
My prince charming come near.
Can I wait for you 10 years or more?
For you I could wait forever and a day.
Forever near you and by your side,
Until the day that you decide.
Always yours, I want to be,
Until the very end of time.
Till death parts us one final day
I'll be with you, come whatever may.
Apart from you my love still flows,
Flowing from me, always to you
And your love I can always feel
Sometimes it seems just so surreal.
So until that perfect day,
When the time will be just right.
The day when we can share a life,
I'll wait until I can finally be your wife.
tell me what you guys think of it!~
GOLD Member
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
member
169 posts
Location: Paris, France, the armpit of europe
Posted:
hi peeps
been a while, its snowing in paris, and my frostbitten tongue is lying dead in my mouth because i'm home alone with no one to talk to. but i have cartoon network, so there.
anyway, i really like that poem 'discovery', its got good meter and the unfolding is very crafty, thumbs up.
also, firekitty, that's one for the old romantics, truly passionante, and with all the chivalric elements that we all lost. coleridge would be proud, and sterne too, if they weren't worm fodder as we speak.
anyway, here is one for the winter, depressing as the climate demands it, but with a touch of hope;
Seasons
Sunday midday,
ash in a teacup
smoke swirls linger
stale, cold.
Mornings don't wake up
in Winter,
Naked trees don't sway
in Winter.
I wish my heart
was evergreen, instead
it sheds, and I
am left bereft of color.
Naked trees don't sway
in Winter,
but evergreens never know
the meaning of Spring
or Summer.
Y.
hi peeps
been a while, its snowing in paris, and my frostbitten tongue is lying dead in my mouth because i'm home alone with no one to talk to. but i have cartoon network, so there.
anyway, i really like that poem 'discovery', its got good meter and the unfolding is very crafty, thumbs up.
also, firekitty, that's one for the old romantics, truly passionante, and with all the chivalric elements that we all lost. coleridge would be proud, and sterne too, if they weren't worm fodder as we speak.
anyway, here is one for the winter, depressing as the climate demands it, but with a touch of hope;
Seasons
Sunday midday,
ash in a teacup
smoke swirls linger
stale, cold.
Mornings don't wake up
in Winter,
Naked trees don't sway
in Winter.
I wish my heart
was evergreen, instead
it sheds, and I
am left bereft of color.
Naked trees don't sway
in Winter,
but evergreens never know
the meaning of Spring
or Summer.
Y.
-Believing that all has been said and done is like mistaking the horizon for the limits of the world. Voltaire.
-Plus je connais hommes, plus j'aime mon chien. Pascal.
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