Sunday, September 5, 2010

DEAD POET

On monday when the sun is hot,
i wonder to myself a lot,
now is it true, or is it not,
that what is which and which is what,

On tuesday, when it hails and snows,
the feeling in me grows and grows,
that hardly anybody knows,
if those are these and these are those

On wednesday, when the sky is blue,
and i have nothing else to do,
i sometimes wonder if its true,
that who is what or what is who,

On thursday, when it starts to freeze,
and hoar frost twinkles on the trees,
how very readily one sees,
that these are whose and whose are these,

On friday, when the moon shines again,
and i find it hard to explain,
a thought which is driving me insane,
whether to contain or to complain,

On saturday, when i see the spring arrive,
when my garden smells of chive,
and i see the bees building their hives,
and i wonder if alive is live or live is alive,

On sunday, when the week ends,
and i finally transcend,
or did i ascend?
was i pretending or did i finally manage to go around the bend?.........

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