Bebo

Ivy <IvyG2>

"TClown"

	To the Ode	784 jours il y a
	Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter. -----John Keats You said write a poem of praise, Praise to the things of this world, things like An ancient urn that Silently intones a timeless philosophy, But outside my window, the wooden fence over the river Sings a sad melody. I pass the pen from left hand to the right, right back to the left. The last piece of light from the top of the old oak Like a red wine stain. I can't help it when The Merlot spills on my paper Blossoming like the blood Of a young poet for his lost lover. The wind blows a gap of silver light through the cloud, The night is a muted drama and I watch it taking the stage in my garden. The full moon is a painting, Its waning is a poem.
	posté par Ivy