Gravity Poem by Emlyn Wentwhistle
Gravity
Imagine if we
could avoid in words,
she said,
the garrulous complexities
of prefixes and suffixes.
In the simplified constant
of an ineluctable present-
truth and meaning
at last rendered free
of all ambiguity
in lucid monosyllable
and unembellished prose!
See the way our bed grows cold,
he said,
while you speak
with such
gravity.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
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5/5/2024 5:19:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
our bed grows cold, oh! I invite you to read my poems and comment.