logic in light

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    • Infect
    • Finding my wings. Be they of feather or leather, I shall wear them with pride, for they are my own..

    logic in light

    Firefoxes cutting the swamps in rainbow blades,

    making no sense..

    Such beauty left to skate the murk and slime,

    then gone, as if in defense.

    Had the collective goo thoughts, as I,

    sorrow would prevail..

    Instead it projects yet another world,

    bullfrogs laugh about secrets they'll never tell.

    Walking away I'm sure of yet another dance,

    is it coincedence?

    Flurried wavers of light, waltzing with the cattail,

    remind me it never had to make sense.

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Infect’s Poems (28)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Digging it 0
    Distance eternal 4
    Monster versus memory 2
    Rebel 3
    Pale stars 3
    Two Hearts 1
    Made of 1
    Blood on the moon 2
    Rivals 4
    The dark of your abscence 0
    Your mountain 4
    That feeling 1
    Storm of daybreak 0
    A dream of mercy 0
    Contagious ramble 1
    Land of the heart 3
    Recieving the given 1
    In between 3
    Rant of the long hair 2
    Senses 2
    Loss of sight 0
    logic in light 0
    Fragment of a southern man 3
    Molly Cantranks 4
    Small Windows 5
    Into life 2
    Seperate ways 4
    A scene from the street 6