What shall I say about it? It cools
The body as it falls, and renders it crisp
And alert, but calm and idle. It washes away
And changes with its cleanness and soft feeling.
...
How can I not understand what
Eyes are seeing, ears are hearing,
Lips are saying? Fog never lifting.
Part of the way the carriage stops. The
...
My name is Robert Westlake, and I am an aspiring poet from the Detroit Area. I have only written a few poems as of when I am writing this (February 5,2012) , but I have some new ideas and hope to write more soon. Please enjoy my poetry. I appreciate feedback. 'We're all of us children in a vast kindergarten trying to spell God's name with the wrong alphabet blocks.' - Edwin Arlington Robinson 'Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.' - T.S. Eliot)
What Shall I Say About It?
What shall I say about it? It cools
The body as it falls, and renders it crisp
And alert, but calm and idle. It washes away
And changes with its cleanness and soft feeling.
Its melodic hum awakens the mind to everything
Around itself. It cannot be avoided; it seeks to
Make itself known and present. The gray it creates
About itself asks a mind to think about it, to recognize
It. Its song is known; its embrace is comfort; its
Coldness is warming. What shall I say about it?
(January 26,2012)