emotion, so I arose and walked around the dining room table, as was habit. You books and pamphlets are all over the table, I lift one to read this:
It appears now that there is only one
age and it knows
nothing of age as the flying birds know
noyhing ot the air they are flying through
or the day that bears them up
through themselves
and I am a child before there were words..................
w.s. merwin
Poems at the right time make me better, that's just what the do, and I keep my table full, try them.
When you write a mood, a poem of metaphor, you cherish it and guard it, keeping your spirit from the massive noise.
ReplyDeleteEach one is a dear friend, and then you discover you have volumes of friends standing on every shelf waiting to help in their specific way.
ReplyDeleteAnd all have been around long years, not idle.
ReplyDeleteIf not to express myself I would wither and die in life's garden, a truth I was born knowing, In Florence.
ReplyDeleteA scary truth in a world gone quiet, except for the blistering noise when the night became too dark and me as a child in short pants and a smile, I faced horrors of the day in bold captions, dated!
ReplyDeleteDefend your children, mothers, the fear around is out of control for the innocence you behold.
ReplyDeleteVery disorganized when I met blogger, with scraps of paper in every pocket,I had written thoughts the day long, didn't know writing at all, read a lot great classics being a serious kind I found authors, the same, poets mostly, came to grammar school, and said' "This is the forest primeval, think not" The arrangement of words I never forgot their beauty, "primeval" I had to look up.
ReplyDelete