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Literature Text
Existence Nouveau
Sandwiched amid the world of old, goaded to Existence Nouveau,
Blinded by the comforting realms of the old arts, yet satellite steals the show.
Beneath the Victorian window I sit, as the grey storm engulfs civilisation,
Time when you retreat to your ‘homes’, for now saved from your digital contamination.
Each droplet of rain, forgotten Gaia’s tears, shall not go un-marked by me,
An atmospheric, welcomed involvement for us, yet for you atmosphere tres gris.
Sandwiched amid the world of old, goaded to Existence Nouveau,
Blinded by the comforting realms of the old arts, yet satellite steals the show.
Beneath the Victorian window I sit, as the grey storm engulfs civilisation,
Time when you retreat to your ‘homes’, for now saved from your digital contamination.
Each droplet of rain, forgotten Gaia’s tears, shall not go un-marked by me,
An atmospheric, welcomed involvement for us, yet for you atmosphere tres gris.
Written recently to express some inner thoughts I was having at the time. I have an hour or so daily where i just sit and write, and this was the product of one of them times. It was grey outside and needless to say i'd been milling things around in my mind.
I seem to have a liking for the French language (please see my symbolism final piece for another example) and it just seemed to 'go' in the poem.
NB:above comments written whilst living in Carmarthen (couple of hours away from where I live now) whilst battling illness
I seem to have a liking for the French language (please see my symbolism final piece for another example) and it just seemed to 'go' in the poem.
NB:above comments written whilst living in Carmarthen (couple of hours away from where I live now) whilst battling illness
© 2009 - 2024 moonwolf17
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