“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 last. Show all posts
Showing posts with label last. Show all posts
Friday, September 30, 2016
A cool breeze hits a sweaty brow
Too busy to look up
tethered with tension
down my leaden limbs
tiny things gathered
and amassed
yet-so easily dissipated, blown away
Here, first, things first-
someone's last chance
blows by
why
ask
any-
more
?
Painting by Jean-François Millet [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Friday, December 11, 2015
The order of things
Firsts and Lasts don't make
good companions, They don't know
Who goes, First or Last?
Image By The U.S. Army (Waiting to board, 11/2008) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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