22 września 2019
By Any Reckoning
A young grasshopper lands
on the paper, I was writing upon,
making a chirping sound―
and starts reading the poem.
It was an exceptional treat
for the eyes. Shutting the storm
window, I will watch the rain―
pounding on the frame,
to recall the visitor―
which was behaving like a
celtic Druid, in meditation, to see
the future of mankind.
Not sure, the bent legs, will
ever lift the body and
propel it to move.
The mayhem was thin, but I
declared― the poetry
was not for insects.
29 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
29 grudnia 2025
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
29 grudnia 2025
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
28 grudnia 2025
wolnyduch
28 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
28 grudnia 2025
sam53
28 grudnia 2025
sam53
27 grudnia 2025
marka
27 grudnia 2025
marka
27 grudnia 2025
marka