language trips up not just the unwary
the power in words is not one to defy
the truth can injure far more than a lie
significance itself is more than scary
each of us moves onward although weary
our goal is not so far we can't descry
its looming presence no one could deny
our eyes can focus on it however bleary
the distance becomes smaller with each pace
emotion angers reason with its force
the words we utter make the hearer gape
yet at the same time appreciate their grace
applaud as each comes through the course
and beauty finally takes its full shape
11 December 2006
the tasks we do
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Your poetry often resonates with things going on around, inside or outside my own head, and that, like music, is the magic of poetry, but I would sometimes like to know what is the thought behind, the impetus, the anchor to your poems. You must think in poetry all day, it flows so seemingly effortlessly onto your page.
I don't know that I think in poetry, just that the poem is something that needs to be said. All sorts of things spark poems -- the view from my office window, something someone says, a stray thought or phrase.
Thanks for your kind comments.
Post a Comment