Gather up the fragrant scents And catalogue the vapors, Searching for the vagrant sense That animates the papers. Sift the grains of vision's gift; The panorama's open Hands invite but do not lift The anchored spirit's coping. Offer to the beating rays The tenderness of bodies, And the frigid winter days The hardness of a sought ease. For a smile give in return The precious eyes of wanting; For a prospect to discern, An inanition haunting. To the music listen not, Or maybe listen too well; Open ears but chastened thought That only knows to rue hell. Drowning in the blaring drone That powerlessness broadcasts To the constant fears intoned With interlacing bombast. What is it you wish to change? Perceptions of a viewer That you feel is out of range Have made you toss the ewer. What you pour out from your soul Sounds off beside the calling Falls which, outside your control, Inspire instead your walling. Jaded by the fruitlessness, The outside world's omission; Every contact's shootlessness Ungrafting manumission. Feeling only ignorance Is what you may achieve, You abandon present tense And make as if to leave.
A place for my poems 