“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Twenty-six characters
Have I repeated myself?
Yes, to excess.
If it is any consolation,
that too
has been done.
And if this were a real poem-
it would be a brush painted kanji-
symbolically inexplicable
by its symbiotic smooth strokes.
It is flow.
So seriously, let us not pretend
emphasis-a stress-is an echo-as an anaphora
Although,
the lines look the same,
they are not along the same lines
bound by words
imitating poetry
that is never new-
but you knew This
I have painted it before.
Image from decalrocket.com
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