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Whiffling Wonder

disarmed of perspective, mindless,
to this ancient forest I pay homage,

my senses soaked in misty meadows,
the dark-green carpets of its clearings,

as rough edges of leafy bough sway
and cut the blank blue of their only sky;


               with arms outstretched, I stand in awe,
               oblation to the wondrous wonders around,

               I stretch myself, hoping that I may become
               just like an artist's taut, transparent canvas

               on which no less than artless and artful truth
               may then be indelibly etched and painted;


                                         by allowing this inchoate enchantment
                                         to permeate the core of my whole being,

                                         in a light sense , I feel good having done
                                         something good, no matter how fleeting,

                                         for it whiffles away in the din of  subways,
                                         gnarled traffic and toxic smog of rat race city !

Copyright © | Year Posted 2007




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Date: 8/1/2011 6:00:00 AM
a nice poem, with a vocabulary to match, you dont see inchoate every day. nevetheless a very good write. i like it
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