"The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."
~ Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms



"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey sequence of bumping into's and tumblings apart."
~ Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet



Saturday, August 23, 2014

Our Language

Poetry is our language

A drop of rain on a blade of grass


An empty glass on a marble bar

Absinthe eyes looking away

Red wine and broken bottles


Burnt out candles

Wax hardened on used books


A lingering scent

Of words not spoken

On empty pages of time


Black brush stokes

Rain soaked pain


Cold coffee in dirty mugs

Sweat soaked insomniac sheets

Chasing your mirage in dreams


Our language is poetry


 

 

 

Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)