Missing someone
or missing something
can be a real painful event!
Like this morning when I woke up
feeling a void deep inside me,
as I refused to open my eyes
while searched for the sound and feeling
of African rain drops.
It is unexplainable
the sense of being in the midst
of jungle and rain,
interrupted often by heavy thunder
then silence - total silence!
Then,
quickly come the flying ants
and a beautiful rainbow
on the other side of the mountain...
And
the sun smiles again
like a child that just played
a prank on his parents.
So we can't help it,
but to smile back in awe!
I miss it almost desperately!
In the morning, on my way to work,
I greet the rubber plant at my front door
and see the whole Africa in a vase!
Somehow,
I think the plant greets me back
in its own way...
This is my truth!
Above all,
I miss you
girl of golden hair
whose life was taken
as you exited the Bank
where you once worked.
wanishi
Monday, November 2, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
One can read this poem and still enjoy the surface meaning which is beautifully evocative. But just below the surface there is the sleep/death metaphor, and the undercurrent of gentle longing for death tinges the surface with a melancholy that reinforces and plays off the night and winter images.
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost
One can read this poem and still enjoy the surface meaning which is beautifully evocative. But just below the surface there is the sleep/death metaphor, and the undercurrent of gentle longing for death tinges the surface with a melancholy that reinforces and plays off the night and winter images.
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