Thursday, September 29, 2011

how about an anonymous poem...

from my big red book The Family Album of Favorite Poems
edited by P. Edward Ernest


~~~


A  Man  Of  Words\


A man of words and not of deeds,
Is like a garden full of weeds;
And when the weeds begin to grow,
It's like a garden full of snow;
And when the snow begins to fall,
It's like a bird upon the wall;
And when the bird away does fly,
It's like an eagle in the sky;
And when the sky begins to roar,
It's like a lion at the door;
And when the door begins to crack,
It's like a stick across your back;
And when your back begins to smart,
It's like a penknife in your heart;
And when your heart begins to bleed,
Your're dead, and dead, and dead indeed.

5 comments:

The Absolute Marxist said...

Ahhh, Eliot's "Hollow Men" always seem to take a beating. Would that we could, I'm sure that we would chose to be flaneurs.

sue hanes said...

AM - Am I missing something here?

Are you saying that the anon. poem I posted is really by t. s. eliot?

Are you calling my way of thinking 'flaueur.'


Have you been smoking a joint?

Speedy G said...

Have you been smoking a joint?

Why bother? I'm naturally high.

sue hanes said...

Legion - me too

-FJ the Dangerous and Extreme MAGA Jew said...

THAT's the spirit! ;)