Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Why I Don't Write Poetry 2011-3

A fly
On a window screen
Working to get out,
After working to get in.
Spending it's short life
Within a fraction
Of it's goal

A man
In a cubical
Working to get out
Forced to get in
Spending his short life
A shadow

The difference
May not be clear
Similar destiny
A fly lives
With wings on earth
A man get wings at death
And flys


Cheryl Peters said...

This is deep and beautiful and very nicely presented. I truly love it.

Bravo, Walk.

Walk said...

Why thank you Shaddy. I'm taking a bow because of your bravo.

Linda McMann said...

I don't know why you think you can't write poetry. This is very profound and good! Keep it up!!

Natasha said...

This is really good!

Walk said...

Parrot and Natasha, thanks for your comments.

Anonymous said...

You are too modest, Walk. You've just expressed a microcosm of theology and also our difficulty (not to mention the poor fly's). Good stuff. So good to see you writing again.