Dust Poem by anais vionet
Dust
We are poor creatures
slimy organs imprisoned in flesh.
The sun burns us, water drowns us
our lives are rough and short,
we're little more than talking dust.
We all howl with angry doubts.
Our art may dry and chip
our science could let us down,
our poets stammer and grow quiet.
Humanity has always been imperfect,
but some of us are trying. We see the stars,
we know passion, we sing and dance
and are Indomitable - join us-
because the best is yet to come
This 'poet', me, does NOT 'stammer', & I'd never be called QUIET. Ask anyone. : )
stanza 1: What do YOU consider 'short'? I'd say that the length of MINE right now is just about right! And I'd just as soon not have it become longer. Speaking of long hair, how much glue does it take to keep that rug on your head? bri ;)
I had posted some notes here. Where have they vanished, PoemHunter?
I haven't seen any comments all month - I get notifications that they're here - but they aren't.
Two weight-bearing pendulums improvise a way forward. Muscles flex while bones maintain rigidity, and so we stand erect...
Two kinds of indomitability: 1) singing and dancing; 2) reducing things to dust (by will to know, or by hard-headed logic or maybe a death wish) .
I don't have a 'death wish.' I want to be a DR - so, it's a healing wish. But everyBODY dies, alas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 8:14:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
4) the second stanza is all about our weak body. Third stanza speaks about "imperfect" humanity, in both body and soul. But an indomitable spirit, the soul, takes it forward. Science (as we know today) may fail us.
OMG, I see your comments.. thank you. I'm reading them now.