I wanted to find a poem by Ezra Pound who I was convinced is credited with writing the shortest poem. I don't know where I pulled that ahem fact from, but my search led me to this poem.
Quite frankly I love it. This is such a beautiful and flowing metaphor of love a relationship and a girl.
A Girl
The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast -
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms
Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child - so high - you are,
And all this is folly to the world.
A collection of poems and musings by a rookie poet and constant dreamer - J.O.S.H
No comments:
Post a Comment