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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 12:42:11 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 178828
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Turbulent Still Life
[time] => 2014-07-18 08:11:28
[hometext] => We start with one thought, then our hands (sometimes) fight our mind and run away to thier own expression.
[bodytext] => There's that pond again, so deep and capable it brims with a life of ideas- ringed in that tall wispy grass that would look so nice in just the right vase- a tall one though! Lopsided imbalance would throw the whole pleasing image askew, and starting anew I would have to decide- new grass, new vase, maybe even a whole new pond? With a slight quiver and shimmer the surface, placid when things are well, now trills and with a hair of disturbance the quell is no more; gone now as my fingers reach for pen or pencil keyboard or quill- anything to tame this furrow, to attain a pond still. Tall order indeed I command upon me- not good at following, even myself... I'll save the five bucks not to hear it said, no army uniform for me...surely if I can't make happy a still life in my mind- a pond, vase and grass there is no room in me for the yell and demand to go forth and kill- take that life, that rock, that hill. Seventy pounds of gear to lug in the desert this year, the jungle next; who knows where our defense of democracy leads? These ideals of freedom, this American Way we bravely cram and bomb in efforts to sway those not used to such a degree of our wondrous barbarous definition of free. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 148 [topic] => 57 [informant] => invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => war )
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