Meaning... - Poem by Albert Ahearn
Everything but the spoken word
is aware of its existence:
vegetation, rivers, the stars;
they are centered on nothing else.
They, all, comprise the universe.
Even this imprudent poet
lives it in part, less dignified
within it save benighted
freedom of my talkative mind.
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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