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Content
May 20, 2008 8:06:25 GMT -6
Post by Groks on May 20, 2008 8:06:25 GMT -6
They say the best poetry is written when in agony or elation. What happens when you just feel content with life? Sorry if this is boring, that was the idea. ContentHow the heck does one write When they are "content"? I mean I'm sitting on my blue recliner On our outside patio My bare feet and legs Resting free on the plastic A gentle breeze Stirs through my hair And brings the scent Of a neighbor's lilac bush Dozens of birds chirp Robins and Cardinals And the bunnies are out Eating the dandelions (and possibly our little rosebush) The trees finally have Their summer leaves The sun sets Glowing warm, orangey, amber While I sit With my empty notebook No tradegy, or comedy, farce or fantasy Just contentment Well - except for not having Something profound to write k.s. May 2008
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