structure
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I am naught but a windblown thought
And nobody can see the wind
Only the mark it leaves on the world
Dear Me From Last Year,
hi.
yes, it's you.
this seems strange.
i am aware. but do not be
afraid; i bring good news. you
see, you have things that
are waiting on you;
Do you or I find literature difficult
to read, or write, extract a verse or two?
A poem by meter, to cause a stumble upon style.
Where o’ where doth the rhythm peak.
An anapest followed by dactyl treat.
Roots that dig deep; as far as the eyes can't see
Kind as the wind, old as a tree
Love that builds life
A Trifiling adventure
Family builds and breaks all, wary as you enter
Past closed up pizza jointsPast laundromats, through the dying noisethe nights tick on like clockworkwatch the calendar as my steps unwind
I don't know much about poetry.
When I was in the first grade, I thought it was about rhyme
That was the only thing I knew about it at the time
And that's all that poetry meant to me.
Life is unfair
The adults all preach it
But it takes so long for you to believe it
You ride the waves
Until the board breaks
After all the people leave—
The raucous laughter has died down, goodbyes have been said,
The lights have all gone out, and people have left for some other party—
What happens to a building?
temper me like steel
burn me with your fire
all the trials
all the fears
melt me as if wax
reshape me as if glass
build me from the start
mold me as if clay
chisel as if rock
tear me down
The south wind blows and I will miss you
Who will you miss, though?
Have you anybody to know, grow, set seeds and sow?
We fall, fall, fall to the blue, into the blue
And then...
