This existence is enough
To make you insane
The Beauty of it
And the pain
Only the comfort
Of each other ….
This Existence
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Monthly Archives: August 2016
Boatman’s Comtemplation
The boatman sits
In the bright sun
Wearing a tall black hat.
Crouched over
He plays
His stringed oar mandolin.
He stands,
stretching his thin
White clothed frame.
Smoothing a greying beard,
And taking off his hat,
Reverently
He contemplates both
Grace and the grave,
And all the islands,
And the shores across the way.
Then he deftly sits again
to play,
The new melodic moments
Eternal
In the day.
Young Hemingway
Young Hemingway,
His new grown beard still black,
And rough,
Walks between
The cars
with an empty paper cup,
Acting tough,
And just before
he would
Have gotten paid,
He turns away,
And waves his arms
In circles to the sky,
Saying
Enough is enough.
The Boatman Travels
The boatman
Has set his sights on travel,
With his ancient oar,
all on his own.
And he will journey far
To distant places
that he well knows,
And where he is
well known.
He is grateful
for good fortune
for all charitable hearts
Along his flowing road,
And for the safe directions
in which
The winds have blown.
PWChaltas 