En.Citatepedia^®.ro

January Sunset

January sunset, clear blue sky,
peacock viridian with a wash of ultramarine,
warm for this time of year.
Ninety-nine percent of a full moon
waxing maculately ivory white in the east.
The threads of the little black creeks
that have frayed away from the strong rope
are the dissonant wavelengths
of baby snakes in the snow.
The willows orange against
the burnt umber backdropp
of a grove of pine, birch, maple
trying to keep some desperate secret to themselves.
Unkempt, wind-swept fields,
under an archipelago of snow,
the exhausted afterbirth
of cattle-corn and sheep
as if that were all they had to show
for the long hard labour of bringing forth life
as the stars are beginning
to emerge from the dark
as the prelude to something spectacular.
The air damp with the fragrance of snow
as the temperature drops cold-hearted
as the blood in the proboscis of a mosquito.
And way off in the misty distance
at the edge of the field
praying mantis hay-balers
arachnid hay rakes,
late triassic tractors
that look like dehorned stegasauri,
machines seized by rust, time, futility,
that have stood there so long,
patient dinosaurs enduring their extinction,
it would be less than human
not to feel sorry for them
or wish for some kind of astronomical catastrophe
that could make it up to them
without bringing the dead back to life
like clusters of houseflies fooled by the weather.
Lunar lichen and wet leaves
the colour of tanned leather
plastered like poultices
to the skeletal femurs
of a crippled cedar rail fence.
Buds on the New England asters
that will never bloom this side of spring,
moments in time
freeze-framed in space,
as if spring didn’t know when
to leave the party at the peak of her popularity
and over did it way past curfew at the group home.

poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since weve no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Oh it doesnt show signs of stopping
And I bought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
When we finally kiss goodnight
How I hate going out in the storm
But if you really hold me tight
All the way home Ill be warm
Oh the fire is slowly dying
And my dear were still good-bying
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! (feat. Kenny Loggins & Clint Black)

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
It doesn't show signs of stopping
And I've bought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
When we finally kiss goodnight
How I'll hate going out in the storm!
But if you'll really hold me tight
All the way home I'll be warm
The fire is slowly dying
And, my dear, we're still goodbying
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

LET IT SNOW! LET IT SNOW! LET IT SNOW!
Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
Hey! It doesn't show signs of stopping
And I've brought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
And when we finally kiss good night
How I'll hate going out in the storm
But if you really hold me tight
All the way home I'll be warm
The fire is slowly dying
Hey! and, Honey, we're still goodbying
But as long as you love me so,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring comes again an attempt at a villanelle

1)
Spring comes again, disbelieve it as we will,
Longest night is past and with it, shortest day,
Turn, turn, then turn again with the year wheel.

2)
Snow quiets the world, keeping deeply still,
Cold holds hard, holds dark, holds very Time at bay,
Spring comes again, disbelieve it as we will.

3)
Winters seem forever, only covering what we feel,
Something deep is waking, as old as Earth, as shy as May,
Turn, turn, then turn again with the year-wheel.

4)
Only change is endless, is timeless, never still,
Whispering wisdom tells us, make change welcome, be unafraid,
Spring comes again, disbelieve it as we will.

5)
Sun's new year's past, and with the Moon's we heal,
In late winter's trembling light, to the darkest days put paid,
Turn, turn, then turn again with the year-wheel.

6)
With snow-drops showing, and daring buds atop a hill,
The lesson's learned again, even winter cannot stay,
Turn, turn, then turn again with the year-wheel,
Spring comes again, disbelieve it as we will.

(written in April,2000)

poem by Gabrielle Ciarann Roniyah Baer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Cold Winter's Day

The weather cold and overcast in the middle of July
And cold jack frost blows with his chilly breath across the Winter sky
And in Kyneton, Trentham and Daylesford they have had a fall of snow
And the temperatures at zero and the weather glass is low
From Spring through Summer to late Fall the weather warm and dry
And for days on end the sun was burning in the clear blue sky
But the rain and snow is needed now and people pray for more
For the paddocks at this time of year never dry as this before
Yet today I saw a magpie despite the Wintery chill
Fly from the ground to a tall gum tree with a twig in his bill
For to build a nest an early sign of the approach of Spring
Of late in the darkness of the night I hear his kin bird sing
In parts of Central Victoria it is snowing, cattle bellowing for hay
And the cold breath of jack frost in the wind it has been a chilly day.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
It doesn't show signs of stopping,
And I've brought some corn for popping;
The lights are turned way down low,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
When we finally kiss good night,
How I'll hate to go out in the storm;
But if you really hold me tight,
All the way home I'll be warm!
Oh the fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, we're still good-bye-ing.
But as long as you love me so,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How January Is Propelled To Spring

Chill January’s snow falls thick and fast
Propelled by blinding blizzard’s biting blast,
So soft white blankets bind the earth for days,
Though spring means drifts shall not lie long nor last.

Bleak January’s rain falls hard and long
Impelled by fierce Atlantic gales, full strong
So even mighty oaks bow in their wake
Till fury fades to calm in spring’s sweet song.

Wild January’s storms shall shed their sting,
Repelled by sun, as winter spins to spring,
So kinder, temperate breezes gently blow
To melt the snow, that all the fields can sing.

Mean January’s curse will never stay,
Dispelled by hopes of ever-lengthening day,
So gardens don spring coats of cheerful hues
As colour’s charm returns where all was grey.

Cruel January’s cloak of white shall yield,
Compelled to turn to green in springtime’s field,
So leaping lambs can clothe the hills again
And cattle quit the comfort of the bield.

Grim January’s gloom will end, by mirth
Expelled, as warmth returns to cheer the earth,
So birds will nest and leaves begin to spring
And dormant buds burst, bearing brand-new birth.

Harsh January’s coldness is compelled
To change, as dismal drabness is expelled.
Repelled by spring, impelled, the frost must flee;
So, doubts dispelled, to warmth we are propelled.

poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There 'Use' To Be A Winter In New England

Pretty soon people will be complaining,
About getting any snow at all.
Especially in New England...
When Summer and Fall,
Seem to rush to connect with Spring.

It is January and there is a dusting of snow.
And people heard strolling on the streets...
Say it is cold.
Wearing nothing but jackets and no Winter coats.

There 'use' to be a Winter in New England,
This time of the year.
And many would ski and slide the slopes.
Prepared in their snow wearing gear.

And every year Winter seems to be taking a backseat,
As warmer days come to tease...
Those who love the snow,
To witness it quickly leave.

There 'use' to be a Winter in New England,
This time of the year.
Pretty soon people will be complaining,
About getting any snow at all.
When Summer and Fall,
Seem to rush to connect with Spring.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The First Signs of Spring

The first signs of spring bring smiles and joy to us all,

Its the beginning of nature and the birth of the new season,

It brings life and renewal back to the cold plains,

Springing buds that will flourish,

Then open in full bloom for summer,

The young of the cattle and the spring of the lamb,

Are all the signs of spring,

With the snow and freeze temperatures,

Turning into cool breezes,

And clear sunny winds blowing,

Knowing its spring again,

The mundane feelings of winter blues,

Start to diminish in our seasonal affective winter faces,

As the sun shines a bit warmer,

So does the color of our face glow brighter,

And all show well in the spring of their steps,

As even the old can get out some more,

Now spring has arrived with safer passage,

Spring is also a time to clear out,

The unwanted items in our homes as we spring clean,

Then there the things to forget or put in the past,

Is in the spring cleaning of our thinking,

To clear our thinking better for a clearer future,

Then there's the renewal of forgiving,

As we forgive and forget,

Forgiving to start anew,

Is the starting again,

Or re birthing the past,

With a new attitude to help,

Its foundations this time round stronger,

Spring,

Is the time to see how it all begins,

For what is way beneath the ground or hibernating,

In the spring shows itself and nature in it splendor,

For what decays and withers,

The spring shows its second coming,

From what lay beneath the ground all winter,

Springs renews in growth,

And mother nature shows her splendor,

Come the first signs of spring,

We all start feeling somewhat better.

poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let It Snow

Appears on
The weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since weve no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Well, it doesnt show signs of stopping
But weve got some corn for popping
And the lights are turned way down low
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
When we finally kiss goodnight
How I hate going out in the storm
But as long as you hold me tight
Oh, all the way home Ill be warm
The fire is slowly dying
But my dear were still goodbye-ing
And as long as you love me so
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since weve no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
It doesnt show signs of stopping
And I brought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
When we finally kiss goodnight
How Ill hate to go out in the storm
But if you really hold me tight
All the way home Ill be warm.
The fire is slowly dying
And my dear, were still goodbying
But as long as you love me so,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let It Snow

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since weve no place to go
Let it snow!
Let it snow!
Let it snow!
It doesnt show signs of stopping
And Ive bought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let it snow!
Let it snow!
Let it snow!
When we finally kissgoodnight
How Ill hate going out in the storm!
But if youll really hold me tight
All the way home Ill be warm
The fire is slowly dying
And, my dear, were still goodbying
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow!
Let it snow!
Let it snow!

song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Oh! the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since weve no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
No it doesnt show signs of stopping
And I brought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
When we finally kiss goodnight
How Ill hate going out in the storm
But if youll really hold me tight
All the way home Ill be warm
The fire is slowly dying
And my dear were still goodbye-ing
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
When we finally kiss goodnight
How Ill hate going out in the storm
But if youll really hold me tight
All the way home Ill be warm
The fire is slowly dying
And my dear were still goodbye-ing
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
Let it snow, let it snow
Let it snow, let it snow
One more time
Let it snow, let it snow
Let it snow, let it snow

song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Snow

when the snow is just starting to fall,
the people are happy to play all day,
the views are different and days are short,
the nights are long,
the snow at day is white and pure,
the night time snow glistens with colour,
like dancing fairies having fun,
the snow that falls,
the boredom sets in,
when the snow goes the spring is due,
the first born lamds,
the leaves on the brown bark,
of the old tall trees

poem by Sharron Stephenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back There In Old Duhallow The Frosty Fields Are Gray

Back there in old Duhallow the frosty fields are gray
And the wildborn birds are silent at the dawning of the day
And the chilly winds of January sough in the naked trees
And ice is on the dark pond from the hard overnight freeze
In January in Duhallow the hedgerows looking bare
And in the rushy field by the river the shy and elusive hare
In the greyness of his surroundings quite visible in his coat of brown
For to warm the coldness in his bones through the rushes racing up and down
From the fields of old Duhallow the Spring seems far away
And the cattle in the farm-yard shed are bellowing for hay
And hungry birds by the back door squabble over crusts of bread
And before the warmth of Spring weeks of cold weather ahead
And the chirping house sparrows in the back-yard the only birds one does hear
Back there in old Duhallow tis a cold time of the year.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since weve no place to go
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
It doesnt show signs of stopping
And Ive brought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
When we finally kiss goodnight
How Ill hate going out in the storm!
But if youll really hold me tight
All the way home Ill be warm
The fire is slowly dying
And, my dear, were still goodbying
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!
--- Instrumental ---
The fire is slowly dying
And, my dear, were still goodbying
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow! Let it snow!
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!...

song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chilled fire of Snow

have you ever taste the cooled bloom of
winter, as the river freeze and the tree stood still
for a hibernation of waiting, oh! come the cone
of the morning dust wonder in the woods for the
early spring sang the melody of your beautifully
echoed song of praise

feel the warm blanket for the thick snow
warm the flesh and fuel the sweat that dried,
open into my molded fire, enkindle that thirst of
my being and say not that hold you to the end,
full of rendezvous happiness beneath the naked
truth of the snow

languish my arrogant and cleanse my hope of
promise for nothing lift, but the chilled night of
where I believe is the beginning of fire in the
chilled winter snow of life

replenish my dignity and brighten my day, the
snow seems clear my way …..

poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Sunshine

After all the chills and winter blues,
The staying warm and staying in,
Meetings indoors for outside is cold,
Then comes the spring sunshine,

The sun breaks in like a door open wide,
With the burst of sunlight,
That lasting and warm,
Bringing smiles back on peoples faces,

While in the chilling season it brings,
Us all to hibernate and stay in,
Not getting out much as weather is cold,
Until the spring sunshine brings us back outdoors,

It is the time for new growth,
It is the time for new beginnings,
It is the time for buds to bloom,
It is the time for nature to sound its sounds of nature again,

For all the while when we shelter from the chills,
Winter is chilling,
And springs getting ready,
For all the new beginnings,
Brought forth from the old,
Of last seasons blossoms,
Spring will bring new growth from its roots,
And bloom again with spring sunshine rays,

Spring will start again,
And a new year to begin it with,
That starts with first,
The spring sunshine,
Of first days of spring,
That brings the smile back,
To all our faces,
With warm sun rays,
Of spring sunshine.

poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let It Snow

Written by vaughn monroe, sammy cahn, and j.styne
Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since weve no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
It doesnt show signs of stopping,
And Ive brought some corn for popping;
The lights are turned way down low,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
When we finally kiss good night,
How Ill hate going out in the storm;
But if you really hold me tight,
All the way home Ill be warm!
Oh the fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, were still good-bye-ing.
But as long as you love me so,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Writing Me

It’s writing me.
I’m not writing it.
It’s got nothing to do with obedience
and there’s no chance of betraying it
even now that I’m three thousand miles
and forty light years away
and all the fireflies and lightning bolts
in my mystic cloud of unknowing
have turned into a frenzy of fanatical killer bees.
I’m swarmed by anxieties like mental space junk
and snakey wavelengths of yesterday
still trying to shed the sky like sunburnt skin.
Like the mythic names of old lovers
tattooed on our foreheads and firearms forever
and the obsolete starmaps in braille
that we followed like the magi
across this friendless desert of stars
as the signage of something divine.
And it isn’t the ironic sublimity
of the implacable circumstances of fate
that dictate whether the gate to the garden
is shut to me or not
that I fear the most
but the caprice of cornerstones
that turn into quicksand just to preserve the past.
I’ve grown more ruthless with my memories
over the past four decades.
I splash acid in the eyes
of those who are learning to read me like a book.
Others I send into exile
for trying to desecrate the image I have of me.
They write long sad poems
on the shores of the Black Sea in winter
and they’re never coming home again.
There’s more Tristes than Amores in the depth of my pain.
The rest I keep like lighthouses and lightning rods
to remind me what it was once like
when schools of silver fish swam
like poplar leaves when the wind
turns them all in the same direction at once
through warm water on the moon
and I had an atmosphere I could rely on.
Now some days I open my third eye
to the lucidity of the morning
as if it were a security camera
that took the picture of the thief
that stole the moon from my window last night.
But here you come again this morning
despite my priestly efforts
to exorcise your ghost
like an oxymoronic fragrance
of Parisian perfume and whale vomit
or as you would say expurgated ambergris
wearing that violet orchid of a blouse
and those tight black leather pants
that used to drive me so crazy
to see what could bloom
in the shadow of an outhouse
like waterlilies in a reeking swamp.
You’re leaning over a cedar rail fence
rotten with moss and lunar lichen
up to your hourglass waist line
in the sidereal surf of New England asters
and you’re feeding three black horses
gleaming like anthracite with sweat
and one with a star
in the middle of its forehead
that made me think
of the Great Square of Pegasus at the time,
a stranger’s apples from the palm of your hand.
And the wild gypsy mane of your own black hair
in the full glare of the sunlight
that bloodies the flyaway strands
like a hairdo of oracular serpents
wounded by the Bronze Age.
I saw the innocent face of Eve
under the mask of the Medusa
and I don’t believe even now
that I try every other day not to
I could have ever loved you more
than I did in that moment.
The delusions and the deceptions
have long ago been swept off the stairs
of the whirling castle of Arianrhod
in Corona Borealis
like stars that gave up their fixed places
to blossom awhile and fall
by the janitors who came after us.
And the gnostic gospels of the autumn leaves
we used to read together
when the weather got cold
have been buried in urns
deep in desert caves
like the holy books of persecuted outcasts
that had an epiphanous way of looking at things
that are hard to explain.
Very few things are things of beauty
and even fewer joys forever
but it’s ungracious to mourn
that it happens to be the way it is
but even so even so
as Basho would say.
Attachment too is a Buddha activity
and we mourn the flowers passing away.
And the rivers and the stars carry forth into themselves
like light and water and passion.
How little of what we said and did
means much now?
Two actors that have gone on to other plays.
A carnival of hearts on a road tour
with a big finale on closing night in the grave.
I remember you with much more discretion now
than I used to.
Things grow dark and clear in the winter.
The cold night air prunes your lungs with lunar scalpels
and though there’s less heat in them
than there is in the summer when
the stars burn through the thinner veils of the willows
with greater insight
than they did when they shone above us.
It would have been facile and insincere
to have been embittered by the biased juries
that prosecute a broken heart
trying to apply the law to love.
And for the most part I didn’t let
what was tender and enduring about us then
turn into hard evidence
and throw live rabbits into a snake pit
hoping to appeal the sentence.
I’ve done my time standing up
with my mouth shut
and left the snakes and the rabbits
to fend for themselves
as you and I did
when the final judgement came down.
And the truth will out
I still remember you as a window
I once looked through
into the creative genius of God
when she comes down to earth
in all her radiance
to see what charms the sons of men
what lights them up
like new stars in the Pleiades
and blows them out like black dwarfs
that collapse under their own gravity
after the last ray of light
finishes shredding the secret documents
that would have incriminated us
for once having been in love
and escapes its abandoned embassy
in the Great Nebula of Orion.
And even as a muse
as this poem attests
you arise occasionally
into my field of vision
from era to era
like the ghost of a constellation
or a bird in transit across the moon
or the smoking root fires
of stars that haven’t quite gone out.
And I see in you now
as I did way back then
all aspects of lunar women
reflected in these briefly beautiful moments
that seem like notes of frozen music
at a nexus of the temporal and eternal
like jewels in the eye of a diamond cutter
who’s always grateful
for the long red wavelengths of inspiration
that come to him like retroactive love letters
as expansive with farewell
as the widening wakes of the past
but who knows a lot more about shining
than he did way back then
when the light was more obvious
than it is now.
I will always see the mystery of woman
like an ancient wine
brewed from a blood red eclipse of grapes
that ripened in the sun at midnight
on the dark side of the moon
and as every man is bound to drink
from the cup the moon offers him
I drink.
I drink down to the very last dropp of night
in my crystal skull.
And I can still taste the delirium
of lightning and fireflies
all the stars and jewels and chandeliers
all the eerie flavours of your translucency
that once shuddered through me like spears of light.
I drink the wine
as I would have taken the apple years ago
from the open palm of your hand
like any one of those three black horses
and one with a star in the middle of its forehead
you were coaxing to approach you
over a cedar rail fence in the Garden of Eden.
And though it’s sad and beautiful and dangerous
to remember why we were exiled from the ode
I’ve come to see that broken taboos
are just the eggshells of hidden blessings
that take to their wings
like the silhouettes
of waterbirds in the moonlight.
And I’m a better poet now that I live on my own
with all these afterlives for company
who whisper in my ear
like the rustling of autumn calendars
let things go
let things go
like a windfall of storm-shaken apples.
And I have.
I’ve learned to let things go
like blossoms and leaves and starmaps
that used to glow in the dark
inside my head as I slept
dreaming up schemes for my enlightenment.
I take a deep delight
in the winds of transformation
that feather my dinosaurs into dragons.
I can still feel the rapture and the ecstasy
laced like silver threads of lightning
in the disappointment and despair
of watching the changes
without knowing where I’m going
this far from home
and all my starmaps obsolete.
But I’ve still got a great eye
for the mood swings of colour and light
and the subtle spiritual tones
in the emotional life of the night.
And the beauty I saw incarnated in you that day
like an epiphany that wouldn’t be denied a body
has only rooted more deeply
in my memory over the years
and grown like wild grape vines
with musically inclined tendrils
like the wine of an old theme song
so inevitably ripe with joy and sorrow
it refuses to be watered down
from the original miracle
no matter how many tears have been shed
since we left the wedding.
And it’s strange how memories
can arise more like revelations
and prophecies of yesterday
like time-delayed inspirations
when you’re living on your own.
In art and life and love
they’ve taught me
time and time again
how emotions frozen with pain
that calved icebergs like glaciers
into the shipping lanes
of the mindstream
can thaw ice-age mirrors into tears
when they lose a grip on themselves like snow.
That the reasons to stay
are no less relevant than the reasons
to go off into the unknown.
That it doesn’t matter
whether you wash your hands at home
of the things you’ve touched
and in turn have touched you
or take a bath in the stars
to wash off the ghosts that cling
to your skin and hair
like the dust of the road.
We’re all swimming
in the same water clock
against the flow of the stream
like spawning salmon
summoned out of the great sea
of urgent awareness
back to where we were born.
We’re called to love and death
sex and extinction
at the same time.
And one is not to be revered
any less than the other.
Summer’s flawless.
And so’s the winter.
But more than anything else
looking back over
the event horizons
of the people and things I’ve known
reflecting on the timing
of my content
like seasons of my own
nine times out of ten
I know when
to leave perfection
well enough alone.

poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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