Saturday, 26 November 2011

TO WALT WHITMAN


I cannot travel within your hours
Your seagulls don’t resemble the ones I see
But your large perception
That eccentric, strong, silent swagger
Your words could sustain an ox
Regrow a thick pine that had lost its vigour

Your glory was thinking aloud
Thoughts floating in your frisky bearded smile
Reducing or enhancing all angelic cherubs
To appear like cheap Christmas decorations

Blessed is your heart
Your iris spit infects your ink
Leaving no defacement upon our common air
Though I have never folded your Leaves
And need not

7 comments:

  1. Every line is cool - and that is okay.

    Nice work lad!

    ReplyDelete
  2. need not
    to fold your leaves,

    true, cool sentiments.

    ReplyDelete
  3. powerful argument.

    Thanks for sharing.
    :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. very cool writing, really enjoyed it

    ReplyDelete
  5. Very smooth! Nice, you have me convinced of every argument. Well penned!

    Erick Flores

    ReplyDelete