A poet might settle
For beauty.
The beauty of ease
He can explain
By the lure
That lies in ripe fruit.
But the allure of ease
He cannot explain,
Nor the allure
That lies in dis-ease.
A poet
Might turn aside from sadness
Then realise
That love relies
On the sadness of ripe-fruit.
sadness of ripe-fruits, good one, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very genuine thought. Agree totally with last line: That love relies on the sadness of ripe fruit. Thank you for your comment on my poem: Humor. Appreciate it very much. RoseAnn