Ticking

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Tags:
  • Death
    • ,
  • Philosophy
    • ,
  • Depressed
    • ,
  • Fear
    • ,
  • The World
    • ,
  • Living

    Ticking

    We are fragile.

    With soft brain cortexes,

    Spongy skin,

    Paper-thin lungs,

    A mortal heart,

    That ceases to pump eventually,

     

    Like time bombs,

    Ticking away,

    We tick through time and space,

    Through endless experiences,

    Through joyful birthdays,

    And darkest funerals,

    Through lonely days,

    And carefree laughter,

    Through bitter coffees,

    And sweet apple pies,

    Through moments of sunshine,

    And tough decisions,

    Through sunny Junes,

    And rainy Octobers,

    Through childhood dreams

    And future plans,

    Until?

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    ArtofLettingGo’s Poems (3)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    You Left 1 10/31/2013
    Ticking 0 10/31/2013
    Still Breathing 0 10/31/2013

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