The Heart In It's Own World - Poem by john o'connell
The heart in it's own world
is filled with rivers, mountains
and deep oceans,
currents, heights and depths
Nearly drowning, now and then,
in dark pools of failure, guilt and regret
it beats and breaths again
the joy of the salmon's leap.
through good weather and bad;
one minute pessimism
but more often than not
the resilient commonsense of hope.
Love-shaped, vulnerable Cupid-target;
Hamlet died for you.
You are the betwixt-and-between
who commandeers the foetal spring
and death's heavily laden bed.
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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