A bag, that is filled with air,
Once torn, the life is gone.
Liters of cream to polish,
Boxes of moisturizers to nourish,
Bottles of cleansers to clean,
Plates of food to fuel,
Beds of roses to roll,
Napkin of thorns to wipe,
Blanket of sorrow to hide,
Misty prestige to upkeep,
A loaned place to leave,
Faulty titles to own and address,
A bag that is filled with air,
Once torn, the life is gone.
When the plate is too hot,
it will be dropped, as we drop.
Once torn, the life is gone. When the plate is too hot, it will be dropped, as we drop. - a poem of clear imagery and ideas, VS...
Facing the muse of life with the works of nature. Thanks for sharing.
There is a time for everything For the bag with air, to be torn to nothing Thanks for sharing
Thanks, a very good, inspiring and thought-provoking poem. Best Wishes, Merton Lee, Singapore
At times we may hold our heads so high that we refuse to see others as they are. When we do this we are compared to a bag of air that will soon deflate and show what we really are. Very good.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really great poem, like it.