View From My Window
Flinging Constellations
(written age 17.)
I am a poet of my time.
This is my time to be creative,
this is my time to fly-to soar like a wounded
eagle with his bitter wings.
On the end, at the edge of things,
I feel grounded, absolutely grounded,
frustrated at the lack of interest in mine,
in my hopes and dreams, in my inspirations,
in my yearnings and quiet consolations,
as I fling my thoughts at the constellations.
I am a poet of my time.
This is my time to be creative,
this is my time to fly-to soar like a wounded
eagle with his bitter wings.
On the end, at the edge of things,
I feel grounded, absolutely grounded,
frustrated at the lack of interest in mine,
in my hopes and dreams, in my inspirations,
in my yearnings and quiet consolations,
as I fling my thoughts at the constellations.
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Flinging Constellations
Flinging Constellations
