Eat Poetry Poem by Francie Lynch
Eat Poetry
I'm at home with my thoughts;
It's not quite quiet if one thinks a lot.
At the oddest time they rage, then storm;
Rack and thunder or light my night;
A wind whirls into a gale,
And thoughts teem on the page.
Some take root,
Produce sweet fruit,
Others wither on the line.
So many thoughts I'm at home with,
I'll pick one to eat a poem with,
And I can't talk with my mouth full.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 1:42:11 AM # 1.0.0.1119
