Singing in the street
is loving life;
is not giving a dam what others think but living in the moment -- the now.
A pauper asks, “Can you spare me some change?”
I quickly scurry by
pretending he’s not there—
can’t help but notice his huddled shaved form.
A tinge of regret creeps through my soul
but not enough—
I walk on by.
To enter a world where steel is THE metal,
highly prized over gold—
kind is good but harsh is better,
he is honored who froze and climbed over others’ hearts.
The schoolgirl sings as her best friend giggles,
they skip along in winter-like spring,
hearts are pure
souls are fire—
not yet familiar with the bittersweet sting
of emotions dripping icicles.
Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
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February
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5 comments:
Hu. I meant to post this on my regular blog: Poet's Dinner. Accidentally sent it here. There are some who will say there are no such thing as accidents-- a slip of a tounge, a slip of a finger is all done with intent. And so, I will let it remain.... enjoy.
I'm so glad to see your work here!!!
...and loosing one's innocence is no accident either, as you so eloquently indited.
glad you made that mistake!
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