Live a poetic existence. Take responsibility for the air you breathe and never forget that the highest appreciation is not to just utter words, but to live them compassionately.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

A Poem: "Quiet!"

O Sorrow! O Sorrow!
In the night you sigh so deeply,
In solitude you breathe a cold air of sorrow, sorrow.
On the crimson fields, autumn’s undress, you weep; weeping
While no sun shines, shining on your tears tearing-
Tired, cracked cries from a suffering mind.
O who is it that squeals, whose voice forms such wretched wheals?
With sorrow, streaming sorrows, choking themselves with feral cries?
O shameless mass, brooding howler- O preacher of sickening wallows-
Away with you! Desperate despised, demise your sobbing yelps!
O shadow, masked by the loosened night- At dusk your modesty revealed
And no longer may you shout,
Of Sorrow! Sorrow! Sorrow!

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