I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Technical trouble Can generate frustration But it prolongs thought
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Your poverty is not exactly mine Long journeys do not always yield progress Your world looks warm and your smiles define
How frequently do we use metaphor Gustatory, culinary, of taste To describe how that novel in a drawer Made the hours given to it no waste?
Without principles We are easily misled By villains and fools
A toy and a tool Differ from one another Be mindful of that
Too many are owned by their possessions Almost nothing belongs to me alone To my master, I pose no glib questions My will belongs to him; I never groan
Don’t envy the brain It can recall forgetting Its name for itself
What sort of nation Makes education costly And narcotics free?
An old, holy rite Which may be a sacred mask For coy surveillance
You will be revealed To yourself when you notice Your own, weird mistakes
Old symbols are strange But fraud, war, famine and plague Are horsing around
Virtual shadows Should never be mistaken For living beings
