The Sunsets Followers

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  • Philosophy

    The Sunsets Followers

     Woe is the man
    who sits quiet impatiently
    Smiling in shadow's
    as fake as the sunsets followers

    To another life he'll walk
    yet not soon enough
    For time is his heart
    and pain is his blood

    Something grows inside of him
    as a blooming black rose
    Beginning as the end
    and ending as the beginning

    Much sorrow is behind his eyes
    while in his hands
    Is a waning white feather
    known as peace

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    JoshPride’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    Smile 0 05/29/2009
    The Sunsets Followers 0 05/29/2009
    The Ippicus Tree 0 05/29/2009
    In a maze of uncertain things 0 05/29/2009
    A moonless night 0 05/29/2009
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