Is It Poetry
Do you begin now to see them.
We everywhere used to think,
some boy in Kansas flew
them over there.
To someone here.
I don't know from whom
it is and why.
My wife for a while as she worked,
for them to see the world.
Judgement is the drone.
There is no longer,
a double doubt as to when.
It is not me against him
or her my hands are their own.
Whiteout before they all come.
I stand now in stark relief.
Where will we be whenever it comes.
Me, I am what most people think I have,
some one like music is.
Speaking of course to the third person.
Sometimes the wind is right into view.
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Comments about this poem (Drones by Is It Poetry )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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