There are afternoons
when everything is blue-
the sky,
the ground,
the flightless birds,
the barren shrubs,
my log cabin,
my wooden chair,
my body,
my mind.
There are afternoons
when everything is blue-
the sky,
the ground,
the flightless birds,
the barren shrubs,
my log cabin,
my wooden chair,
my body,
my mind.
the flightless birds,
the barren shrubs,
Where are you?
heheheOriginally Posted by MystyrMystyry
I'm in my bedroom, where the birds on the calendar do not fly and the shrubs in the Botany book I'm reading do not flower.
Last edited by miyako73; 04-19-2012 at 05:42 AM.
Enjoyed your poem.
Your poem reminded me of the trees:
http://inhabitat.com/blue-painted-av...up-in-seattle/
The article I cite above is about an artist painting Seattle's trees blue to raise awareness of the depletion of our forests. I had thought to write a poem with the images in mind (and may yet).
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
tailor
who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami
7-8-2015
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