this past
shall I cavil at winds of thought
and wallow in misery thus begot
or shall
I in streams of contentment sail
and be thus enamored past the pale
of simpletons
who cannot with the cockatiels fly
their wilting impulse quick to die
a match
all sulfur swift to perish in fire
and waft in smoke; my dreams go higher
'tis never
an effort of persuasion untried
however my want of skill has died
those who
will never understand this great
reliance on the facts of fate
because I
know my Creator whose good will
I can trust to forever still
2007 Idaho
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent descriptives - 'all sulfur swift to perish in fire and waft in smoke.' Shakespearesque me thinks. Nice one Anemone. Regards. Craig.