I even hear the mountains
the way they laugh
up and down their blue sides
and down in the water
the fish cry
and the water
is their tears.
I listen to the water
on nights I drink away
and the sadness becomes so great
I hear it in my clock
it becomes knobs upon my dresser
it becomes paper on the floor
it becomes a shoehorn
a laundry ticket
it becomes
cigarette smoke
climbing a chapel of dark vines. . .
it matters little
very little love is not so bad
or very little life
what counts
is waiting on walls
I was born for this
I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.
Does anyone have an impression of what what counts is waiting on walls means.
Courage to climb thin walls of Life and death and then wait.....being a hustler of death
I believe it's about lonely people on the fringes - wallflowers
'I was born for this I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.' - Touching lines!
very little love is not so bad or very little life what counts is waiting on walls I was born for this I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead..........great poetic expression about the life of grievance; it's our life; in every life there is hidden the death; happy and sorrow- the twin name of one life; we have to accept everything to overcome perfectly; great poem penned; I enjoyed
I even hear the mountains the way they laugh up and down their blue sides and down in the water the fish cry a fine poem, and imagination. tony
The poem started on a happy note, sinks into sadness and seems to end with a practical view of life. Like the whole life surmised in a small poem. Excellent.
This is a beautiful poem on life and nature having amusing expression. Thanks and congratulations for being chosen this poem as the modern poem of the poem of the day.
I recognize this man. He could be one of thousands of beautiful people i have seen and met and known on the streets. great poet