|
Ramble
by Timothy SomersWords of great import,
thoughts of great magnitude,
easy carried sentence measured
well beyond the mean and
metered thought.
Yeah, well...
find me in a book someday
stumble up upon my words,
I doubt it will work out
that way,
I don't have very much to
say to me or he or she.
Yeah, well...
I've read the Masters' stuff
and found it quite enough of
art and profound thought
to bank a million men a million
years, plus one.
All to say what they did say
with "Once upon" a certain
day the world would see
what they could see,
could see and not tell me
except in dusty tomes of
"Mimsy were the borogrove"
and
"Mista Kurtz, he dead"
and
"Here the hangman stops his cart:"
Why didnt someone listen?
Yeah, well...
Someday I'm gonna be...
You wait,
I'll make you see...
Oh sure...
Oh yeah?
Perhaps the day after the
last grandchild really learns to
read and finds the attic trunk
out will come assorted junk
and yellowed pages held
and stored a lifetime long.
05/15/2007 Posted on 05/16/2007
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Somers
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/16/07 at 04:11 AM That's a pretty good ramble, man.
Nice work. |
| Posted by Kyle Anne Kish on 05/20/07 at 04:23 AM Timothy, we ALL want to be recognized. Shoot being remembered as "somebody we want to be remembered as" is much better than being the town drunk. Shoot, now I'M rambling. Your poem just hit me in the home. Thanks for writing it. |
|
