Fire is fascinating, don't you think?
It means life as well as death.
Smoke is annoying, and that's the link.
It cut off my attempted breath...
Old poems to burn, new ones to share.
New poems are written in bursts.
This should be reverted, yet I don't care.
It feels all too familiar, rehearsed.
We talk in circles, would you not say?
Until one of us spins off-course.
I did not feel the joy that we should have today.
Not joy unfelt by remorse.
Cheer up, now, as I'm sure you can.
Do not believe in the wasting of time.
Insolent once, but in a reaffirmed plan,
I'm currently not wasting mine.
"Insolent once, but in a reaffirmed plan" I like that
ReplyDeleteI really like the conversation pieces of this poem.
ReplyDeleteOh, thanks. This and the next poem were written about three weeks ago, this is actually the newer of the two poems. I like to mess with chronology.
ReplyDelete