sunlit dust motes within
windswept snowflakes without
a yard of moss invaded lawn
layered over with snow
reminds me of a time once spent
in despair, intuiting life's transcience.
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sunlit dust motes within
windswept snowflakes without
a yard of moss invaded lawn
layered over with snow
reminds me of a time once spent
in despair, intuiting life's transcience.
I understand. I like.
Sometimes, watching the dust particles move is how I know I'm breathing.
the poem itself,
–(good)(clever)(yes)—
imitation cummings?
[eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!]
if you (tres)&(pas)
upon another's grave,
style what becomes style…
Good Luck!
Pen
If you didn't understand that, you may wish to re-read e.e. cummings and see if you really understand him.
http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1.../PuppyLove.gif
this is a lovely poem whether or not it is in the style of E E Cummings. Lovely lines with a quiet confidence to them. Well done.
i admit that i titled the thread with haste. sorry if i stepped on some toes.
Nay, do not appologize for a good poem! My toes are quite safe. I was quick with my wit, as always, and owe the apology myself. Your poem was fine.Quote:
Originally Posted by chasestalling
Mea culpa
Pen