Sunflower Sutra
I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the box house hills and cry.
Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.
The only water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily.
Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--
--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem
and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past--
and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--
corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,
leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!
The grime was no man's grime but death and human locomotives,
all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--modern--all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown--
and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what more could I name, the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos--all these
entangled in your mummied roots--and you standing before me in the sunset, all your glory in your form!
A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!
How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of your railroad and your flower soul?
Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?
You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower!
And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!
So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,
and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul too, and anyone who'll listen,
--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Will sunflower find it's lover
What a wonderful sunflower is
sunflower has attractive colour
It is very simple
How much sunflower loves to sun
We can't imagine
sunflower is very faithful
sunflower gets up early in the morning
wash it's face with dew drops
worthwhile you are
sunflower waits the sun
It begins to looking towards the sun
you are my best friend
As sun moves, It follows blindly
no matter hot or cold
you are innocent
It goes behind the sun
till the sun set
sunflower remains with it
At the end of the day
beautiful sunflower feels tird
it becomes sad
but it says to sun good night
till the morning
with the hope to meet again
sunflower goes to sleep
Does sun knows about
The love of the sunflower
will sunflower find it's lover
how many years sunflower
has to wait
I can keep hope
soon........
april 12,2008
abdul razaq
poem by Abdul Razaq
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monkey And The Engineer
Once upon a time there was an engineer.
Drove a locomotive both far and near.
Accompanied by a monkey that would sit on a stool
Watching everything the engineer would do
One day the engineer wanted a bite to eat,
He left the monkey sitting on the driver's seat,
The monkey pulled the throttle, the locomotive jumped the gun
And did 80 miles an hour down the mainline run.
Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive No. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind.
The engineer called up the dispatcher on the phone,
To tell him all about his locomotive was gone.
Dispatcher got on the wire, switch operator to the right,
Cause the monkey's got the main line sewed up tight.
The switch operator got the message on time,
Said there's a Northbound livin' on the same main line,
Open up the switch I'm gonna let him through the hole,
Cause the monkey's got the locomotive under control.
Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive No. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monkey & The Engineer
Once upon a time there was an engineer.
Drove a locomotive both far and near.
Accompanied by a monkey that would sit on a stool
Watching everything the engineer would do
One day the engineer wanted a bite to eat,
He left the monkey sitting on the drivers seat,
The monkey pulled the throttle, the locomotive jumped the gun
And did 80 miles an hour down the mainline run.
Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive no. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind.
The engineer called up the dispatcher on the phone,
To tell him all about his locomotive was gone.
Dispatcher got on the wire, switch operator to the right,
Cause the monkeys got the main line sewed up tight.
The switch operator got the message on time,
Said theres a northbound livin on the same main line,
Open up the switch Im gonna let him through the hole,
Cause the monkeys got the locomotive under control.
Big locomotive right on time, big locomotive coming down the line.
Big locomotive no. 99, left the engineer with a worried mind.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Sunflower Goddess
i once wrote a poem
for you sunflower goddess
each word is tainted
with my blood
each line is drawn
within the perimeters
of my aching heart
i look for you sunflower
goddess
i am the moon
you are destined for
the harshness of the noonday sun
tonight you will be mine
but you are dead
sunflower goddess
i will bury you in the embrace of my golden sheen
tonight
my witness shall be a hundred stars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Women's harvest song
I am waving a ripe sunflower,
I am scattering sunflower pollen to the four world-quarters.
I am joyful because of my melons,
I am joyful because of my beans,
I am joyful because of my squashes.
The sunflower waves.
So did the corn wave
When the wind blew against it,
So did my white corn bend
When the red lightning descended upon it,
It trembled as the sunflower
When the rain beat down its leaves.
Great is a ripe sunflower,
And great was the sun above my corn-fields.
His fingers lifted up the corn-ears,
His hands fashioned my melons,
And set my beans full in the pods.
Therefore my heart is happy
And I will lay many blue prayer-sticks at the shrine of Ta-wa.
I will give corn to Ta-wa,
Yellow corn, blue corn, black corn.
I wave the sunflower,
The sunflower heavy with pollen.
I wave it, I turn it, I sing,
Because I am happy.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Flower Petals
When saw I yesterday walking apart
In a leafy place where the cattle wait?
Something to keep for a charm in my heart-
A little sweet girl in a garden gate.
Laughing she lay in the gold sun's might,
And held for a target to shelter her,
In her little soft fingers, round and white,
The gold-rimmed face of a sunflower.
Laughing she lay on the stone that stands
For a rough-hewn step in that sunny place,
And her yellow hair hung down to her hands,
Shadowing over her dimpled face.
Her eyes like the blue of the sky, made dim
With the might of the sun that looked at her,
Shone laughing over the serried rim,
Golden set, of the sunflower.
Laughing, for token she gave to me
Three petals out of the sunflower;-
When the petals are withered and gone, shall be
Three verses of mine for praise of her,
That a tender dream of her face may rise
And lighten me yet in another hour,
Of her sunny hair and her beautiful eyes,
Laughing over the golden sunflower.
poem by Archibald Lampman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perfect Lie/ You Are Loved The Way You Are
Stand in front of the mirror
Either boys or girls, some got depression
Try to find yourself underneath the reflection
Dissect each point, seek for perfection
Dreaming of perfection, adore some corrections
Never know the word of satisfy
Already beautiful but admire to modify
Don't you know who really you are?
You are loved by the way you are
Most of us rather see what appeared outside
always forgot to evaluate what lies inside
Most of us deceived by the open eyesight
always fooled because blinded heart-sight
Perfection makes everyone affected
Perfect one is what you wanted
Perfect lie is what you invented
Perfect word only a word that human created
A real you, that what you have neglected
Dear,
Don't feel down,
if u are blessed as jasmine flower
Why must you envy of that sunflower
I know, it is big, sweet yellow, catchy for eyes to look
But, don't you know sunflower adore the way you look?
Hypnotize fragrance by cute in white, posses its own hook
So unfair to compare the different beauty you both look
Jasmine, u never be sunflower even u dressed in yellow
The fake pigment will fade away soon
Sunflower, perfumed never make u placed in jasmine row
The artificial scent will gone before noon
No need to hear anyone to drag you down
Yet thou be like a rose, beauty guarded by thorns
Thankful to have what u have now
You always loved by who you are now
It is always good to be yourself
Better than lost yourself in your own lie
In fantasy, to taste perfection, perfect lie u got
In reality, perfection is only belong to God
And...you are always loved the way you are
*Note: U are beautiful, no matter what people say...
This is for everyone that think they are not good enough
in many aspects not limited to beauty perception
poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eucalyptus and Sunflower
weight and lightness
darkness and rays
uneven proportion
life is like a graph
go right......infinity
go left.......infinity
but in the middle
a perfect zero
in some corner of my heart
I feel a presence of an
Eucalyptus Tree and a sunflower
the tree opens up it's branches
and moves upward to reach the sky
as if clouds are it's own
and the sunflower gazes
at the sun
day after day
with a strange kind of patience
the lightness of sunflower
the weight of the Eucalyptus
the flower can never reach the sun
neither the tree can touch the sky
with a vague pride
it announces it's failure
a perfect zero for both!
still in some corner of my heart
I feel their presence
and each day the sunflower
tries to appear one step more closer to sky
than the tree
have you seen a flower taller than the tree?
fill the blank
with the ink of nothingness!
poem by Jyotishman Debnath
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ah! Sun-flower
Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller’s journey is done;
Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
poem by William Blake from Songs of Experience (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Id Like That
Id like that if we could cycle down some lane
Id like that if we could ride into the rain
No macs, getting wet
Id be your albert if youd be victoria, hah hah
Wed laugh because each drop would make me grow up
Really high, really high like a really high thing
Say, a sunflower
Id like that
Id like that (what would you like? ) if we could lay before my fire
Id like that (what would you like? ) if you could slide me from this wire
Toasting fork, Ill be done
I wouldnt hector if youd be helen of troy, oh boy
Wed laugh because each flame would make me grow up
Really high, really high like a really high thing
Say, a sunflower
Id like that
Id smile so much my face would crack in two
And you could fix it with your kissing glue
Id like that
Yes, Id like that
Id like that (what would you like? ) if we could float away in bed
Id like that (what would you like? ) if I could row your heart and head
With you laid on one arm
Id be your nelson if youd be my hamilton, what fun
Wed laugh because each stroke would make me grow up
Really high, really high like a really high thing
Say, a sunflower (repeats)
Say a sunflower I became
Id be growing in your lane
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Id Like That
Id like that if we could cycle down some lane
Id like that if we could ride into the rain
No macs, getting wet
Id be your albert if youd be victoria, hah hah
Wed laugh because each drop would make me grow up
Really high, really high like a really high thing
Say, a sunflower
Id like that
Id like that (what would you like? ) if we could lay before my fire
Id like that (what would you like? ) if you could slide me from this wire
Toasting fork, Ill be done
I wouldnt hector if youd be helen of troy, oh boy
Wed laugh because each flame would make me grow up
Really high, really high like a really high thing
Say, a sunflower
Id like that
Id smile so much my face would crack in two
And you could fix it with your kissing glue
Id like that
Yes, Id like that
Id like that (what would you like? ) if we could float away in bed
Id like that (what would you like? ) if I could row your heart and head
With you laid on one arm
Id be your nelson if youd be my hamilton, what fun
Wed laugh because each stroke would make me grow up
Really high, really high like a really high thing
Say, a sunflower (repeats)
Say a sunflower I became
Id be growing in your lane
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Complaint of Lisa
There is no woman living who draws breath
So sad as I, though all things sadden her.
There is not one upon life's weariest way
Who is weary as I am weary of all but death.
Toward whom I look as looks the sunflower
All day with all his whole soul toward the sun;
While in the sun's sight I make moan all day,
And all night on my sleepless maiden bed.
Weep and call out on death, O Love, and thee,
That thou or he would take me to the dead.
And know not what thing evil I have done
That life should lay such heavy hand on me.
Alas! Love, what is this thou wouldst with me?
What honor shalt thou have to quench my breath,
Or what shall my heart broken profit thee?
O Love, O great god Love, what have I done,
That thou shouldst hunger so after my death?
My heart is harmless as my life's first day:
Seek out some false fair woman, and plague her
Till her tears even as my tears fill her bed:
I am the least flower in thy flowery way,
But till my time be come that I be dead,
Let me live out my flower-time in the sun,
Though my leaves shut before the sunflower.
O Love, Love, Love, the kingly sunflower!
Shall he the sun hath looked on look on me,
That live down here in shade, out of the sun,
Here living in the sorrow and shadow of death?
Shall he that feeds his heart full of the day
Care to give mine eyes light, or my lips breath?
Because she loves him, shall my lord love her
Who is as a worm in my lord's kingly way?
I shall not see him or know him alive or dead;
But thou, I know thee, O Love, and pray to thee
That in brief while my brief life-days be done,
And the worm quickly make my marriage-bed.
For underground there is no sleepless bed.
But here since I beheld my sunflower
These eyes have slept not, seeing all night and day
His sunlike eyes, and face fronting the sun.
Wherefore, if anywhere be any death,
I fain would find and fold him fast to me,
That I may sleep with the world's eldest dead,
With her that died seven centuries since, and her
That went last night down the night-wandering way.
For this is sleep indeed, when labor is done,
Without love, without dreams, and without breath,
And without thought, O name unnamed! of thee.
Ah! but, forgetting all things, shall I thee?
Wilt thou not be as now about my bed
There underground as here before the sun?
Shall not thy vision vex me alive and dead,
Thy moving vision without form or breath?
I read long since the bitter tale of her
Who read the tale of Launcelot on a day,
And died, and had no quiet after death,
But was moved ever along a weary way,
Lost with her love in the underworld; ah me,
O my king, O my lordly sunflower,
Would God to me, too, such a thing were done!
But if such sweet and bitter things be done,
Then, flying from life, I shall not fly from thee.
For in that living world without a sun
Thy vision will lay hold upon me dead,
And meet and mock me, and mar my peace in death.
Yet if being wroth, God had such pity on her,
Who was a sinner and foolish in her day,
That even in hell they twain should breathe one breath,
Why should he not in some wise pity me?
So if I sleep not in my soft strait bed,
I may look up and see my sunflower
As he the sun, in some divine strange way.
O poor my heart, well knowest thou in what way
This sore sweet evil unto us was done.
For on a holy and a heavy day
I was arisen out of my still small bed
To see the knights tilt, and one said to me
"The king;" and seeing him, somewhat stopped my breath;
And if the girl spake more, I heard her not,
For only I saw what I shall see when dead,
A kingly flower of knights, a sunflower,
That shone against the sunlight like the sun,
And like a fire, O heart, consuming thee,
The fire of love that lights the pyre of death.
Howbeit I shall not die an evil death
Who have loved in such a sad and sinless way,
That this my love, lord, was no shame to thee.
So when mine eyes are shut against the sun,
O my soul's sun, O the world's sunflower,
Thou nor no man will quite despise me dead.
And dying I pray with all my low last breath
That thy whole life may be as was that day,
That feast-day that made trothplight death and me,
Giving the world light of thy great deeds done;
And that fair face brightening thy bridal bed,
That God be good as God hath been to her.
That all things goodly and glad remain with her,
All things that make glad life and goodly death;
That as a bee sucks from a sunflower
Honey, when summer draws delighted breath,
Her soul may drink of thy soul in like way,
And love make life a fruitful marriage-bed
Where day may bring forth fruits of joy to day
And night to night till days and nights be dead.
And as she gives light of her love to thee,
Give thou to her the old glory of days long done;
And either give some heat of light to me,
To warm me where I sleep without the sun.
O sunflower make drunken with the sun,
O knight whose lady's heart draws thine to her,
Great king, glad lover, I have a word to thee.
There is a weed lives out of the sun's way,
Hid from the heat deep in the meadow's bed,
That swoons and whitens at the wind's least breath,
A flower star-shaped, that all a summer day
Will gaze her soul out on the sunflower
For very love till twilight finds her dead.
But the great sunflower heeds not her poor death,
Knows not when all her loving life is done;
And so much knows my lord the king of me.
Ay, all day long he has no eye for me;
With golden eye following the golden sun
From rose-colored to purple-pillowed bed,
From birthplace to the flame-lit place of death,
From eastern end to western of his way,
So mine eye follows thee, my sunflower,
So the white star-flower turns and yearns to thee,
The sick weak weed, not well alive or dead,
Trod under foot if any pass by her,
Pale, without color of summer or summer breath
In the shrunk shuddering petals, that have done
No work but love, and die before the day.
But thou, to-day, to-morrow, and every day,
Be glad and great, O love whose love slays me.
Thy fervent flower made fruitful from the sun
Shall drop its golden seed in the world's way,
That all men thereof nourished shall praise thee
For grain and flower and fruit of works well done;
Till thy shed seed, O shining sunflower,
Bring forth such growth of the world's garden-bed
As like the sun shall outlive age and death.
And yet I would thine heart had heed of her
Who loves thee alive; but not till she be dead.
Come, Love, then, quickly, and take her utmost breath.
Song, speak for me who am dumb as are the dead;
From my sad bed of tears I send forth thee,
To fly all day from sun's birth to sun's death
Down the sun's way after the flying sun,
For love of her that gave thee wings and breath
Ere day be done, to seek the sunflower.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Flowery Smile, A Smiley Flower
And we need the wisdom of others
for instance, this week
I'm eating sunflower seed bread
and suppose that no-one had told me
that just like those cutesy baby tapeworms
sunflower seeds made themselves at home
and grew like men having babies
until one day, someone would say good morning
and you'd open your mouth and just like
one of those happy film cartoons
out would pop a big yellow sun flower as
an answer
worse still if you were strolling round
a Van Gogh show and someone asked you
what you thought of them
and thought you were taking the mickey
like some Disney moment
yes we need other people's wisdom
to live safely I mean
why don't they grow like tapeworms,
do you know, smartypants?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunflower, So Magnifcent And Beautiful!
My sunflower, hath for many days, lain dormant,
But for his unfortunate false interment,
Surely would he now be with her thither!
Without his nourishment, shall she wither!
Lonely, beauteous sunflower, most spectacular of all,
Did but choose to be without him, since the fall!
Not in need did she think, was she, of his 'water',
Now, as never before, through life, she doth totter!
Weary is she, from lack of his nourishment,
She doth plod along still, in need of same to be sent!
Not is she the same since the day she did forsake him,
Ne'er again shall be allowed, for granted, to take him!
Sunflower, so magnificent and beautiful,
To nourish such, my vocation taken-dutifully!
Maurice Harris,31 March 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The flower bloomed today
The flower bloomed today
It’s a yellow sunflower
Through the ground it made its way
The flower bloomed today
The petals fall as they may
Until the plant’s final hour
The flower bloomed today
It’s a yellow sunflower
poem by Amanda Dickerman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Dreamt I Caught A Little Owl
‘I dreamt I caught a little owl
And the bird was blue -’
‘But you may hunt for ever
And not find such a one.’
‘I dreamt I set a sunflower,
And red as blood it grew -’
‘But such a sunflower never
Bloomed beneath the sun.’
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sunflower
The sunflower,
Lord of the annual bed,
Rising alone and aloof;
Tapping the earth
By the old garden shed
And peering out over the roof.
My sunflower,
Grown from a small and striped seed
I saved through the cold winter days,
The seasonal race
You did easily lead
My prize then your bright coloured gaze.
But sunflower,
King of the colourful crew
Straining right up to the sky,
Please whisper to me,
And answer me true:
Why have you to grow Oh so high?
Oh gardener,
Working upon the good land,
The answer, if you will believe,
Is the higher I climb
O'er the rest of the band
So the more of the sun I receive.
(Written July 1996)
poem by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunflower
Sunflower-wilting in the sun, wanton for its rain,
Though rain, as the same, shall ne'er pass its way again!
No longer do conditions exist which allow for its presence-
Alas, its immense pain has tempered its beauteous essence!
Without precipitation to nourish it, wither further, it shall-
Before long, even those not familiar, will notice its pall!
One without the other, surely shan't there be,
As is such with you now: for you are without me!
Whence together, rain doth feed the sunflower,
One may see further, its benefit, each passing hour!
Once removed from each, they are no longer the same-
They remain themselves then, only but in name!
Allow now my rain, to your sunflower's benefit,
One for the other, surely does each, it befit!
Maurice Harris,25 July 2008
poem by Maurice Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hes Gone
Rat in a drain ditch, caught on a limb, you know better but I know him.
Like I told you, what I said, steal your face right off your head.
Now hes gone, now hes gone, lord hes gone, hes gone.
Like a steam locomotive, rollin down the track
Hes gone, gone, nothins gonna bring him back...hes gone.
Nine mile skid on a ten mile ride, hot as a pistol but cool inside.
Cat on a tin roof, dogs in a pile,
Nothin left to do but smile, smile, smile!!!!
Now hes gone, now hes gone lord hes gone, hes gone.
Like a steam locomotive, rollin down the track
Hes gone, gone, nothins gonna bring him back...hes gone.
Goin where the wind dont blow so strange,
Maybe off on some high cold mountain chain.
Lost one round but the price wasnt anything,
A knife in the back and more of the same.
Same old, rat in a drain ditch, caught on a limb,
You know better but I know him.
Like I told you, what I said,
Steal your face right off your head.
Now hes gone, now hes gone lord hes gone, hes gone.
Like a steam locomotive, rollin down the track
Hes gone, gone, nothins gonna bring him back...hes gone.
Ooh, nothins gonna bring him back.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ginsberg Love Letter
Dear sweet mad bearded
naked bard guardian
angel of my soul:
Oh Allen,
I remember how you saw me through
those lost vagrant nights I suffered
choking on insomniac bull frogs
of insoluble cosmic revelation
So many nights I cried...
Desperately longing to confide...
I found you...
someone who could relate
to such an unruly manic mind
hurricane of tyrannous thought
A fellow self combustible Cassandra
conjuring locomotive banshee dynamo visions
of a shattered shadowless earth...
Someone who could feel the transmissions of
ancient radio tower pain...
You helped calm those
alien schizophrenic shivers...
soothed a screaming psyche...
Gave a voice to a mouth
once mute with fear
Thank you Allen,
for leaving love's trail of
subterranean sunflower seeds in your wake...
...I now see them sky bound sprouting
as I walk the golden-laurel path you helped lay
Oh how low I used to hang
my soggy hop washed head...
How drunk I was on myself …
How little I shared with others...
So many lizards and cockroaches
loitering inside...
I could never let another soul in
to help refurbish rotgut wasted walls....
How awash I was in ego insecurity...
Allen, your drunken escapade revelations sobered me up.
Summer's I shave my age darkened locks off just for you
Always with a bearded face
carrying the glowing tan medals
of our shared alma mater
the universal uniform worn
in Whitman academy
Allen, mailing letter's of laurel gysum to the world,
you knew the exact local of my soul's address
OH Allen,
You escaped this life alive!
of this I am certain:
I feel your poetic heart...
Beats resonating daily in my chest!
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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