Now And Pen

My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near to the ocean's edge as I can go. - Thoreau

title conspicuously absent in perpetuity

nocturnal blood the ink

sudor of dawn's aubade the words

forced smile for a separator

wasteweir tears of emotion's proclamation

bent quill of a kingfisher the pen

curmurring bowels and careworn vowels

boiled cement of tempered faith

spilling an occasional new page

every now and then

my life is but the poem i would have writ'

secret

albeit

in sanskrit

Author's Note

“However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poorhouse. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly as from the rich man's abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.” - Thoreau

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

Thoreau loved Nature… are we not part of Nature. We learn Survival from feathered Friends and keep warm when snow flurries ascend. Your Poetry intrigues me. gently, Pat

[Pete]

we are indeed dearest pat, inextricably. happy new year! ... :)