Poem.

Oh, the rivers that will flow-
And the faces that will go.
All the way pass the door,
And out into the void.
The void is in another room.
We tiptoe past the field of gloom.
I see your eyes, they light with grace,
As they move about any place.
The rainbow in the sky has grown;
Falling faster than we have known.
The weeds grow in the building lot,
A glass of lemonade will hit the spot.
The wind roars through the shade.
I look at all the art I have made,
A collage of words, a still of voice,
This is what I did, it is my choice.
The art is in mountains,
It is in fountains.
It is in the air-
Or walking down the stairs.
The colors of the void are dark,
We can’t begin to light a spark,
Of the night that surrounds us all,
And leaves again in the fall.
Oh, the rivers that will flow.
And time will stand still.

Sonnet.

I was reading Samuel Taylor Coleridge's essay on Romeo and Juliet and I wrote a sonnet.

I have written some before but they are awful. Here it is:

Ode to the passes of the symmetry,
that revere in greatness and in grandness-
taught with the sameness of the hand,
I revere your heart, you cometh less!
Hark! Devil’s cruel hand! That gaveth
the dew that tarnishes the land-
a bitter dream of revelation,
a begotten hand,
a bird perches near a ledge,
and eats all the berries from the hedge.

The trees are bare; the sounds fold,
churning the water of tarnished gold.