It makes sense not
to have the body
seamless,
hermetically sealed, a
non-orificial
box of incorruptibles.
Better shot through and through!
Interpenetrated
- with the world. Air
mists my lymph. Ex
cretion, degrading
routine,
gives the world passage.
I am a bead.
Sorted,
thumbed,
threaded,
strung,
fingered (did you say) by
threads of all hues,
riddled through,
happily.
I am a bead.Sorted, ............. Good poem
Very interesting poem. It meaning and depth is something of many hues encompassing the whole process of creation. Congratulations and thanks for sharing.
Well thought, with the best intention an amazing poem created. Your poem deserves the most to get the Modern Poem Of The Day Prize..Hooray! CONGRATULATIONS for this prize of honour, Gieve Sir!
Very thought provoking poem. Congratulations on being poet of the day!
It makes sense not to have the body....... this is a bead Sorted, thumbed, threaded, ........ nicely penned
Beautifully composed. Thanks and congratulations for being chosen as the modern poem of POD.
I am a bead. Sorted, thumbed, threaded, very fine poem. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The routine! ! ! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.