The Globe Poem by john tiong chunghoo
The Globe
the globe sits
on the table
full of countries
surrounded by
a mass of blue
hitting the drums
on so many
vacuum cells
in my mind
so many places
that remain places
flat as a piece of map
the child tilts the globe
spins it it round
and round
a mind full
full of wonder
of the world
that revolves
in his mind
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Topic(s) of this poem: places
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8/28/2026 11:18:57 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
