May 2015
-Is not poetry
-Just blank prose on a blank page
-Devoid of meaning
That was a haiku
listing its own description
maybe this is too
Fruitlessly search her
Find her pointless intention
Flog her innocence
Be not satisfied
consummate your great wisdom
speak of your power
From literal farce
the meaning of life is found
flourish as she dies
-Just blank prose on a blank page
-Devoid of meaning
That was a haiku
listing its own description
maybe this is too
Fruitlessly search her
Find her pointless intention
Flog her innocence
Be not satisfied
consummate your great wisdom
speak of your power
From literal farce
the meaning of life is found
flourish as she dies
Please comment what this poem means to you. The beaut of poetry is what the reader gets out of it. As our minds try to understand the mysterious, we imply our own assumption from unique experience which leads to infinite perspectives of an infinitesimal point. By sharing we find the common denominator that is unknown to even the author.
