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:
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.
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?
Have you been smoking a joint?
Why bother? I'm naturally high.
Legion - me too
THAT's the spirit! ;)
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