* This Mind, This Body, This Verse.
When the wilderness beckons, and the mind,
Recalcitrant, struggles to obey:
This body hasn't anything substantial to say.
Only lines of verse can take them far, far away.
To look onto the river and rocks: leave worries behind.
Listen to gurgling streams: to see ships afloat
In the distant horizon. I have travelled
Often and wondered often walking
On streets and bridges as rivers murmur
Where does poetry begin? Why does the heart weep?
Are destiny's lines charted
And does change ever ensue?
How often, how often can one go wrong?
My companions to this solitude:
This mind, this body, this verse.
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Comments about this poem (* This Mind, This Body, This Verse. by Rani Turton )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
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