Contemplation - Poem by Ivan Pine
For those of us that are condemned to sit
And stare unwavering on a distant land,
Here lets pause and reflect a bit
And confront the hourglass’s loss of sand.
The eyes are sore from a glare caused squint
Matching furrows across the brow,
And navel gazing reveals just lint
An accumulation you wonder how.
As you twist and turn in the chair
A tuneful wind is your friend,
That howls and rushes and tears you hair
To blow you further round the bend.
Comments about Contemplation by Ivan Pine
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You