“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 rhymes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rhymes. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Rhymes with Bucket
As an echo gargles the ells
Is that All
I've got
given it _ All-
-pulled back, squint in-
-tensed up-
Un-wound,
I begin to see specifically
out of line
drops
in
the bucket...
...
..
.
By the way: (I lost sight of mine
I, me-I, me, mine
and All those
hollow no's)
Enough is Enough
to go around
for each of us plus
it's All superfluous.
Half-full, half-baked,
half-witi-schism-
wrung wry
and completely empty I be,
sufficiently still sere here
unilaterally.
Image By FOTO:Fortepan — ID 92566: Adományozó/Donor : Unknown. [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Drizzle
The muse has been muted while we are both listening for some reason- we have both observed; Profound is not discovery, Epiphany is no certa...
-
Natures touch is both gentle and fierce. Homo sapiens trample on her back. The thick skin impossible to pierce. So...
-
A year ago this May, in fact, upon this same very grey day- something came over me I found could say, in no other way but to portray, ...
-
Sun lifting the veil of purple sky- might bronze forge strength pungent as the turned dirt? Thirsting through exposition, hi...
