Head of Nature

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    Head of Nature

    In the basement, he writes green tapestries of us.
    In the uncertain and flowery basement,
    there are splendid flowers or the lesser evil.
    It lives and creates the exquisite brocade.

    A nature's affair shows her two eyes,
    the dead red flowers and white teeth strewn on the floor.
    Beauty and Sun glint,
    without which we are old wine.
    Her loud lip laughs under the branches of tapestry.

    And when he has joy, tell a writer
    his laugh trembled at each basement.
    We see it pouring from his fingers for the audience.
    The lesser of Us; he who shames himself.

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    breathe’s Poems (6)

    Title Comments
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    Manners 0
    Rockability 1
    Head of Nature 0
    Shell of Youth - Yolk the Butterfly 0
    Colors of the Soul 0
    The Fish in the Drain 0