Sunday
As I said, lots going on in this new year. The murders in France over a cartoon. Freaked out all of us. Poets felt compelled to write something about it. Here's mine little poem about this horrifying event:
The wind that blows,
the rain that falls,
the thunder that comes . . .
you cannot tame it.
not a knife long enough
to cut the throat of an awkward bird
that shouts its off key song,
its strident hiss biting at your ear.
kill the poet, in turn, murder yourself.
Heaven bears no patience
for the suicide of spirit.
rrw o1-o7-15
As I said, lots going on in this new year. The murders in France over a cartoon. Freaked out all of us. Poets felt compelled to write something about it. Here's mine little poem about this horrifying event:
Bravo,
l'artiste !
You
can’t kill the voice
that
wills to be heard.The wind that blows,
the rain that falls,
the thunder that comes . . .
you cannot tame it.
There
are not enough guns,
not
enough bullets,not a knife long enough
to cut the throat of an awkward bird
that shouts its off key song,
its strident hiss biting at your ear.
kill the poet, in turn, murder yourself.
Heaven bears no patience
for the suicide of spirit.
rrw o1-o7-15
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