“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label box of chocolates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label box of chocolates. Show all posts
Saturday, February 6, 2016
The gist of being Februist
Is it Februist to pen about pain-
Loves counter-refrain
Let's all complain!
That, my dears is the gist
of being purely Februist
And of amethysts
shaped by six packs
clustered quartz
like opinions
and craggy dominions
add it to the list
of being Februist
Golden locks too soft
lead too, hard as nails
too hot, too cold,
too much, too little
love and hate
soul mates
Valentined and kissed
You guessed it, this
is also Februist
So Life is a box
of chocolate filled
surprises and sentiments
to be tasted and tested
swallowed and spit out
notes to nibble on
Though the gifts we tend
to doubt
are the sweetest,
Yes, as the skepticist is
Februist
Only tiny truths, gnats in the know,
bugs in rugs and ermine expectations
make rime in time to thaw
trickle down pains
theoretically and say
in thirty ways from May,
time Marches on
gripes and grouse
when a Februist
storms through your House.
Image By Josephbanjo (Own work (Photo personnelle)) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons Rose with rime.
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