| Paul Kren |
| Swiss Poem Account Collection |
| Poem Account Poets Paul Kren wylde Barry Fitton Joshua Griffin jota Craig Moore panta rhei Orphicgoblin judih |
| comments: judih@hotmail.com |
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| Poetry II wind all is what it seems the composite meaning is just a point of view come lick my brain |
| wind this blade of grass and I have heard many things the wind speaks all is what it seems yellowed in the sun this faded shirt my feet bare as i cross the empty yard she would be in a blue dress if she were here, coffee cup in hand faint smile on her lips sounds of water, wind and birds would stir the morning mist a grin on my face a step of grace in my pace time took this from me, like the thief it is took the sunsets, the pink of morning the warm embraces I, the fool, as life would have me, stand here in the morning dew staring into a future I never knew, alone is alone. the composite marbled in time this the stone of truth a pleasant walk in evenings long held note the dark of dark appears this silence of the sun a hand held, a smile in infinitesimal steps the nite moves on sounds erupt from trees I hear them gentle as a summers breeze meaning is just a point of view there is a rock a mountain really a sky expanding into space water softly washing into morning there is this smell of incense touch of mist quiet noon rivers cry beneath the bridges mountain sigh below the planes men dig holes in earth and wonder is life, could life, really be this way? steamroller thoughts flatten dreams cease a false contentment crease into a dreary evening could life, is life, really what we see? you, and maybe even I have seen this dusty vision mindless motion endless march of death's precision no touching this true world this world and you and I will never know. is there more to this than just the endless pounding of sounds into the ears that have already heard too much is there anything to see when eyes have bled in darkness tears dried in endless sorrow weary of yesterdays tomorrows more or less is there even this the clouds in miriad patterns push into evenings soft refrain sunlight drained into dusk or more to this, the emptiness of need the deeds of selfish wanting curled into frowning brows the wisdom of pain, marrow of despair yes, but not that we know indeed, yet seeing is not too easy of course the living thing is now this gentle breeze speaks it listen come lick my brain in splintering twilight I the moonshakes tumble to the ground earth rattles beat in tune to man's incesscant whining jesus mohammed joseph and hitler wear a badge a crux a crisscross of sight and we tremble and shake and take the next exit near these are the times you are the mimes of unspoken truth the vagrant vagabonds of destiny lisping into tomorrows rhapsody of woe the thinning light of morning reveals a stone a thread a goon the last one in is the last one out shout take heed the end of the world happened while you were on the phone no one noticed the inertia turned to movement. think or not. it is the question to your answer. |
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| contact the poet: pkren48@absolute-net.com |