To: bentfeather; All
I think I'll try a poem that has nothing to do with Thailand, for a change!
Twisted Currents
Down by the creek
are the fruits we seek
not the onion, carrot, or leek
but the current it is
dripping juice from our fists
picked from the vine
packed full of life
some are yours, some are mine
music from pipes
dancing under the moon
black as a beautiful mare
currents go into our brew
twisted currents are our fare
twisted currents for me, twisted currents for you
/////////////////////////////////////////////////
to be continued!
My muse ran out for a smoke! But this one's half finished. (any takers on finishing it??!!)
18 posted on
10/06/2006 7:55:30 AM PDT by
starbase
(Understanding Written Propaganda (click "starbase" to learn 22 manipulating tricks!!))
To: starbase
This is good!! Let me work on it.
To: starbase; SoldierDad; WayzataJOHNN; HopeandGlory; Lady Jag; All
Twisted Currents
Down by the creek
are the fruits we seek
not the onion, carrot, or leek
but the current it is
dripping juice from our fists
picked from the vine
packed full of life
some are yours, some are mine
music from pipes
dancing under the moon
black as a beautiful mare
currents go into our brew
twisted currents are our fare
twisted currents for me, twisted currents for you
starbase
A current on the loose
cuts deep into the soil
gouging out new frontiers
along the winding trail
a grape vine near the waters edge
heavy with her fruit
must drop her burden soon or all
will be moot
The apple trees now hanging low
their sweetness cannot be contained
cause, on a sunny day's walk in orchards deep
her sweet ripeness still remains
So life flows along the old water ways
the youth in fullness ripe and fresh
burdened in fall's long days.
The orchard prepares for colder days
lets down her golden hair
and bares her limbs raised above the barren earth
on these last warm days.
The currents twist another direction
jack frost paints white
icy patterns on the glass... like a magic flight
into the wonderland of ice, snow and cold
North winds swoop down upon the waiting orchard below.
Thus, the currants twist and turn
ebb and flow they do
like squeezing life from the sand
on every path we go.
bentfeather (c) 10/6/06
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