alone, i sit in the woods
with books, a pen, and paper.
i dream of simplicity, nothing
minimalism in nature
alone, i'd be a poet
or a novelist--a philosopher
perhaps at a monastery
living off rice and tea
alone, i walk the streets
i wonder, looking up,
how any man would build an empire
where the motivation lies
glistening windows a mile above
the street light, beside me
skyscrapers rose not from laziness
but from vision and conquest
when life is so simple and
books are most engaging
why would any man drain himself
to give rise to glass and steel?
the answer
simpler than the question
is that books engage due to
her shadow cast on them
they relate, they convey emotion
from me to myself, as
she is in my mind
yet, at times, when she is discovered
in the world
my focus is altered
for that beautiful mind
the girl with impeccable taste
i find myself driving up steel
putting up green glistening glass
for a smile
and an approving nod
how could i resist doing any less for a girl so perfect with wisdom of ages and independence like fire and calm like the sea? there was a foundation, an archetype for greek goddesses and so is she for this age and me
my hera--with green eyes.
i wrote this fairly quickly last night.
i'd love to hear comments! (as always.)
typo on line 11: s/how and man/how any man
typo on line end-1: s/and archetype for/an archetype for
> Very good middle and end, the beginning could use some work perhaps.
fair enough. thanks.
> i like it!
thanks!
I'd like to know more about your perceived connection between progress such as the building of cities and romantic love.
only thing I didn't like was the second-to-last line. too long! kind of killed the flow for me and made me have to engage in novel-reading rather than poem-reading, if that makes sense.
switch up the flow