At the risk of perpetrating a cliche
I must admit-- the light in this room
Is golden. Just plain golden.
There's nothing I can do about it,
Either. Not even the most original
Flight of poetic fancy
Will render this light anything
But golden. Humph. Ah well--
One must resign one's self
And recall that all the best things
Are cliches; from golden light to poetry to
Love, and that most of all.
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Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.
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5 comments:
true, true...
did you compose that composition of compositority
come on, its not that hard of a question! just yei of nay will suffice...
Sho did. It's my own, my precioussssssssss.
I actually thought your poem started off with an iffy future, but as it progressed I liked it better and better, until finally I reached the end and thought, "this is a very good poem. We like it very much, don't we? Yes, we do."
Anyway, just wanted to congratulate you on another poem well written.
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