BABBLINGS

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    BABBLINGS

    How I long to write something brilliant;
    To make all who read, stop to marvel
    at my choice of words. To make the gods
    look down in envy at the purity and wisdom
    of what a mortal has written.

    But alas, my thoughts are locked tightly within my heart and mind - and all that comes out
    are the babblings of a fool...

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    Rhymer commented on BABBLINGS

    07-11-2010

    We all babble, and we must all be fools for the words of a poet entertain other poets and never falls to the Gods ears. Excellent piece my friend babble away.

    Stryx

    07/11/2010

    Thanks for going back in time, Rhymer.

    rsalassi commented on BABBLINGS

    07-11-2010

    Chaos128 said it perfectly. To add to his remarks would in itself be nothing but my own babbling. Excellent!

    mamasan commented on BABBLINGS

    10-30-2009

    May I disagree with you and throw the complliment your way that even your so called babblings serve a purpose; and I do stop and listen. May I share that poetry to me is an opportunity to unlock what is within my heart and mind. And the marvel is that so many of us share the same thoughts that would do better if opened and unleashed to the world. Maybe then we would have peace and love in the world.

    Stryx

    10/30/2009

    I see you are most interested in world peace...Know that all peace comes from within - then without. Stuggle not for the impossible - struggle for what YOU can do - then be patient, dear lady.

    Chaos128 commented on BABBLINGS

    10-19-2009

    The problem isn't an inability to write impressively, S, you can do that in your sleep. The problem is writing something with which you can impress yourself, and with your standards that's a very tall order. Ten thumbs up!

    Stryx

    10/19/2009

    You are too kind, Chaos.

    Charlie23 commented on BABBLINGS

    10-16-2009

    I love this one! Wisdom comes from above, but the foolish never listen...

    Stryx

    10/16/2009

    So true - thank you

    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Stryx’s Poems (203)

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