Poets, always unsatisfied,
Making Life a tearful dream,
Looking for Paradise,
In life's tangled scheme,
Or in the stories,
Of a demoded screen.
It seems so simple,
But it's Not!
You have a plan,
you think a lot,
And you search,
In a brain that never sleeps.
I conclude that,
Thinking is for Fools,
For answers are never there,
No matter how hard you think or care,
And stare at the pale-blue-light,
Of a silent night.
No Answers,
Just Despair,
All along Life's,
Endless stairs,
Always wanting to reach,
The long away light of the Stars,
That impossibly is never there.
Being culturally close to the Chinese, I accept that all things in nature follow the Way (Tao) of birth, life, and death. This view, I believe, is rational, wise, and comforting. While this poem, as is the case with virtually all of your poetry, is quite wonderful... I think being able to accept what is... makes one's existence happier. To live is to suffer... to suffer is to think... to think makes one wise... when one is wise... life is bearable! Thinking of Sandra Feldman as unhappy makes me very, very unhappy....
I'm more of a tell-tale imagist than a Poet...but I know many of them...and no good Poet was ever truly,100% satisfied with his/her work...Have you ever read the Perfect Poem...Of course not...It doesn't exist. But The consummate Poet never loses stride in their efforts and exploration to maximize their most reaching potential. Your love of this artform will take you to places you never knew you could fly over, as one day you look back at poems you wrote years ago versus today, tomorrow, or years from now...You have the skillset and the love...And the above work is proof of all that and then some...Rock-On, young lady! ~FjR~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Whoa. Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. I love these thoughts and think these things. You've got it.