bright sun

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  • This Poor Star Called Sun

    bright sun

     it shone bright,
    brighter still,
    and the brightest,
    then it faded a little,
    and more,
    till it was all out,
    do not know where he was all night,
    having his fun,
    this poor star called sun.

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    In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

    Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

    ecrit’s Poems (11)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    what I chewed last night 0 12/18/2010
    I know not who I am 0 10/22/2009
    this poor star called sun. 0 10/22/2009
    bright sun 0 10/22/2009
    Green 0 10/22/2009
    spinal run 0 10/22/2009
    solitude talk 0 10/22/2009
    The Cage I am in 1 09/22/2009
    Departure Pangs 2 09/21/2009
    Ascent to Heaven or Heaven's Descent 1 09/21/2009
    Aromas of her bake 0 09/21/2009
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