Frank Avon

W=o=r=d=s - Poem by Frank Avon

There is,
I hear myself saying,
and this is enough.

I wonder,
I hear myself asking,
whether or which.

Words insist,
I hear myself saying,
wisdom that isn't.

Listen, listen,
I hear myself whisper,
sufficiency is....

and pull another weed
from the marigold bed.

Topic(s) of this poem: words

Comments about W=o=r=d=s by Frank Avon

  • Gold Star - 5,882 Points Michael Walkerjohn (10/18/2014 7:13:00 PM)

    Aloha Frank...
    Don't be bored with my reads, comments, and votes of confidence in your posts... From the fluff I read on countless other sites... yours, for this moment, are the shite! I cannot seem to get the vote prompt to accept my rating of this post though... ghosts in da machine... your reference to work in the yard was intensely compelling... I have placed my hands into the soil of 56 countries... and watched as both seed and plantings grew... kinda like these words we weave, fellows odd... both me and you... a few of my thoughts are out here in the cloud, as I have mentioned... and a few snippets of vetted fact to allow the astute researcher to admit... That we are returning home en masse to correct the lean of this our only sphere... I am, with respect, watching you... all of the best from this life, to you, and all of your relations... Michael. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, August 24, 2014

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