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What Propels The Pendulum Of Our Hearts?
by Tom Goss1.
The trees
that breathe
the sky
the leaves
that wilt
and cry
the flowers
that whisper
then die
2.
Attention:
The above letters are simply juxtaposed remnants of a poetry burp;
the kind of indigestion that spontaneously forms in your head.
Suddenly, you find you are under attack as the offending poem
rides its way to freedom on the pumping-blood-vessel roads that
begin in your head and end in the twitching electricity
of your remote-controlled fingertips. 12/04/2007 Posted on 12/04/2007
Copyright © 2026 Tom Goss
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 12/04/07 at 05:02 PM Fluctuating hormones swing my pendulum far more than I am comfortable with. Darnit, sometimes they DO ride down into the tips of my typing fingers or my tripping tongue. Great read here! |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 12/04/07 at 08:19 PM I think you have covered everything here, head to toe even lower, deeper than "fingertips"... and I just sit amidst the fallen and "flowers" and "leaves" underneath the tree overwhelmed with the scents of it all... |
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