Twisting down the ravine,
I cannot feel my spleen,
I cannot cry my tears,
Is this but a dream?
I swim,
Where I swim I do not know,
When I get there,
I may know,
I wonder if it will snow?
Will
i
t
s
now?
Only time will tell,
The hunchback rings his bell,
All the trees are felled,
I cry into a well,
But does it snow inside the well,
Or am I stuck inside a translucent hell?
...wEll?
Author notes
This was just a way of expressing myself during this deeply-insaninating journey I am taking. Is 'insaninating' a word? Perhaps no-one can answer such a question.
Amen
Written January 30th, 2006
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1 - 5 of 5
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Yes, I was trying to tap into e.e. Cummings's aura whilst writing this timeless piece opf innocent beauty.
H -
This is a change from your usual poems with a twist of humor. I liked the line "Will it snow?" Reminded me of e.e. cummings's work. Insaninating. I like it.
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Undoubtedly two extremley refined individuals. No doubt hoping to fuse the pig hunt with a discussion about capitlisim and globalisation.
Edited on Feb 05 because ''. -
Thanks for the big-up, friend. During this amazing experience, I have really got in touch with my emotional side. I've also got in touch with Davo and Macca, the three of us are going on a pig hunt next Tuesdy.
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Quamby Rocks
Looks like that trip to Quambatook really opened up the creative juices. Great write and keep enjoying Quamby you Llama eating wilderbeast.
Edited on Feb 02, 4:00 because ''.
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