Prose & Poetry

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  • Poetry
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  • Prose

    Prose & Poetry

     Someone dropped a pen.
    His name was Prose.
    "Write." said he.
    "Use it to bind ideas
    With its tears as the rope."
    So I tried.
    But my strength
    Rattles on his weight.

    "Let me interfere."
    Said Poetry.
    "Scrape what you have done
    And let your heart
    Do the talking."
    So I did.
    Now I speak
    In deeper linings.

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    dennisgo’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    Only Death 0 03/26/2010
    Prose & Poetry 0 03/26/2010
    When The Fruit Has Ripened 0 03/26/2010
    Greenhouse Effect 0 03/26/2010
    I Thought I Knew What I Was Dreaming 0 03/26/2010
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