Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.191.24.197

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

I lay spread-eagle in a field orchard; 
Surrounded on four sides by long-grown, green grass
On a dry, October's noon. Nonchalant.
I watched a small squirrel climb a tree, close; 
The branches shaking violently still.
With a soft thud, a bespeckled fruit fell,
And I watched it drift past my outstretched palm. 
I thought of a line I'd heard too often;
"No man is an island."- or so they say.
I came to see with what I was content:
Though I could lay in that soft aroma, 
Alone with the sweet sound of wind through grass; 
Though I enjoyed spending time all alone; 
I am afraid of living life lonely. 
Terrified of being the star ungazed;
Of leaving nothing behind but my words, 
For words can and will always be challenged.
As I stared on all that is celestial, 
The constellations of my soul aligned.
In my emotion, the grass became rye; 
For whilst I sought to be Camus' Mersault
I was but Salinger's Holden Caulfield- 
Painfully aware of the blades of grass;
Too faddish of their personalities,
Yet hurt more mentally by their absence. 
Still, the hardest part of this loneliness, 
Is living knowing it was my own fault.

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required