Flags Of Flying Fragments Poem by Smoky Hoss
Flags Of Flying Fragments
Three sheets to the wind...
mere dirty laundry in the bin,
hang 'em out to dry
under a burning sun to fry;
the night always ends in day
but, it doesn't change anyway,
out on the lines
out of their minds
the whipping-waves of endless despair
are pinned, and going nowhere;
though the sheets remain
the flags have flown to pieces, just to keep
from going insane -
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4/23/2024 8:54:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
So true, my friend, so much disparity in the world. However I just came back from India. the part I visited was Belgaum (not overcrowded and not touristic) The images I saw were at first a bit shocking but as I stayed on for a while I started to be aware how genuinely happy the people were even though they were poor. the smiles on the women's faces who were bearing water on their heads from far away places, barefooted but with colourful saris. I think very often life is not easy, very often we are ready to despair, but if we manage to look at the skies, life is, even though difficult still beautiful. Very good and thought provoking poem