Movement/Standing Still
My feet move back and forth.
Sensing movement
my perifery blurs,
As the reflection in windows
roars past me.
Light speed.
I'm getting somewhere,
Going nowhere.
My lips move,
No words that move.
My fists clench,
No violence.
Lighting fast,
did you see that?
So much to do,
So little time.
Ah, movement.
Wind in my hair,
Standing still.
To have great poets there must be great audiences too.
Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Movement/Stan ding Still |
0 | 08/10/2011 |
| Margins | 0 | 10/12/2010 |
| ALONE | 1 | 10/11/2010 |
| Cold World | 1 | 10/11/2010 |
| Mona Lisa | 1 | 10/11/2010 |
| TWO SIDES | 0 | 10/11/2010 |
| REAL | 0 | 05/16/2010 |
| THE MUSE | 0 | 04/13/2010 |
| Living In a Liquid Word | 1 | 08/12/2009 |
| Still Life | 1 | 08/06/2009 |
| The Sensation of Speed | 1 | 08/06/2009 |
| OLD MEN CAN TIME TRAVEL | 0 | 08/06/2009 |
| A Coiled Knot | 0 | 08/05/2009 |
| ARC OF THE ARROW | 1 | 08/05/2009 |
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