WHERE THE GRASS IS GREENER by Shabetei ()
Planting a fresh weed in a garden of roses
As the birds watch waiting for me to leave
With the sun beating down on a mind that is thinking
Of all of the thoughts it don't need
Hands still soiled from a long day of labor
For things only useful to the eye
Missing a few patches where it doesn't matter
No sun beams come there from the sky
Then step back to rest on a bench slightly crooked
And sigh from all the things thought in mind
Like living through a movie each story unfolded
With revenge or with riches or a heart far better then kind
These hands are much older
then the mind that moves them
Yet I could keep laboring far into the night
Living stories with no pictures and memories unlived
And make all their endings be right
Filled with revenge still a hero unaltered
As the sun slowly sets in the west
I could finish this tomorrow or maybe next year
But I'll never finish mentally to rest
(The picture is of Mortimer, my "Pond Watcher")
Image Comments (5)
roseofmadison () 9:08PM | Mon, 25 June 2007
Oh how amazing, I wish that Mortimer was here with me, the poem really is gorgeous well done..
Miss Nancy () 11:38PM | Mon, 25 June 2007
well, I hadda click on this one, as that green thing was so weird-looking. a smug, humourous buddha-like froggie. revenge is a dish best served cold.
hanevi () 3:24AM | Tue, 26 June 2007
Good reading, lucid and smooth, and good to see a post after a long time. Best wishes, hanevi.
Dieblue () 7:30AM | Tue, 26 June 2007
"These hands are much older then the mind that moves them" Excellent...I relate to that quite well. Well done indeed!