Water
Everything I love turns to water
I've tried to hold it in my hands
but it trickles through my fingers just like water
All I've ever thirsted for is water
but its a babbling brook that I don't understand
It cackles as it courses through my fingers
I'm left with just a dampness on my hands
Everything reflects upon the water
Everythings an image in this pool
To reach for such an image is your folly
The image becomes a ripple
and you a fool
Its only water
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Oh My Soul | 2 | 06/30/2010 |
| Higher Power | 2 | 06/29/2010 |
| Thinner | 4 | 06/29/2010 |
| The Beast | 2 | 06/29/2010 |
| The Spike | 2 | 06/29/2010 |
| Big Fish | 2 | 06/28/2010 |
| Three Day Night | 2 | 06/25/2010 |
| The Drink | 1 | 06/24/2010 |
| The Hit | 1 | 06/24/2010 |
| clubbin' | 0 | 06/24/2010 |
| grateful | 0 | 06/24/2010 |
| Water | 0 | 06/03/2009 |
| a faded Rose | 0 | 06/03/2009 |
| parade | 1 | 06/01/2009 |
| moth to a flame | 1 | 06/01/2009 |
| fisher of men | 3 | 06/01/2009 |
| good natured sin | 1 | 05/31/2009 |
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