Nov 2020
I am made to sit still
Against the back of my will
I am tied to a floor
With rags it once wore
I am dressed limbs to chest
Upon which all can rest
I am kept with bare ends
That still serve their errands
I am blind but can see
All that they wish of me
I am deaf but can hear
Cries…laughter in my ear
Books and I both do share
Matter to be dealt with care
I am wordless they say
But worth books if they pay
I am…insensitive?
Yet warmth is all I give
December 1, 2011 NHH ("Plume")
Against the back of my will
I am tied to a floor
With rags it once wore
I am dressed limbs to chest
Upon which all can rest
I am kept with bare ends
That still serve their errands
I am blind but can see
All that they wish of me
I am deaf but can hear
Cries…laughter in my ear
Books and I both do share
Matter to be dealt with care
I am wordless they say
But worth books if they pay
I am…insensitive?
Yet warmth is all I give
December 1, 2011 NHH ("Plume")
The “plume” (a French word for feather) has got all the secret; weightless and agile, but nonetheless, lost amidst an array of adventurous travels. It is determined for a destination, a landing, yet howling winds and envious skies ****** it further and away. The plume is who I am.
Ambitious? Certainly; dreams solely pending in the realm of imagination. Skilled? Exhaustively; a “melange” of university degrees longing for achievement. Confused? Terribly; an open door to eternal misery. But yet, and again, the plume has it in store for me. Across the past many years, with vivid and melancholic memories, the plume has come to find peace in a sedentary kingdom: the fortress of writing protected by the expression of its glorious pen!
My journey begins here with you as the readers and my long-discovered passion for writing is pinned to a series of poems…“Poetry Made Fun” attributes itself to indulging yourselves and your children with hints about objects of our everyday lives.
Ambitious? Certainly; dreams solely pending in the realm of imagination. Skilled? Exhaustively; a “melange” of university degrees longing for achievement. Confused? Terribly; an open door to eternal misery. But yet, and again, the plume has it in store for me. Across the past many years, with vivid and melancholic memories, the plume has come to find peace in a sedentary kingdom: the fortress of writing protected by the expression of its glorious pen!
My journey begins here with you as the readers and my long-discovered passion for writing is pinned to a series of poems…“Poetry Made Fun” attributes itself to indulging yourselves and your children with hints about objects of our everyday lives.
