metaphors

The Way Better Day Than Tomorrow

by 
I'm told to live my life like
There's no tomorrow
But truly
There has to be a better way
For if the morrow never comes
And it's my last breath I breathe today
How will I know to appreciate it
For won't I be too enthralled, too focused, too busy with
Living
As much as I can, as hard as I can, as fast as I can
Before the day's end and the morrow that may never come
To simply catch my breath and just
Breathe
Slow and steady
In and out
Filling my lungs
Feeling my lungs
Expand and
Contract
And listen to the fresh-filled blood pounding in the ears
Echoes of the patient heart
Sounding throughout the rest of today and in
To the morrow and beyond
Forever

The River and the Bed

by 
The river winds around my head,
Fish before my eyes.
I lay my cheek upon its bed and
Contemplate the skies of
Morning's red, of
Midday's blue, of
Twilight's pink aglow, that
Filters through the rushing stream
Born of mountains long ago.

Where does it go in such a rush from
Rushing 'bout my mind? This
Is the thought I can't escape;
Its answer won't unwind its
Liquid coils from the root where
All such knowledge grows. And
Like the river born of distant mounts,
Its seed sown long ago.

Proverbs and a Poem

by

How long, you simpletons, will you insist on being simpleminded? How long will you mockers relish your mocking? How long will you fools hate knowledge?

Proverbs 1:22, New Living Translation

O, but the mockers’ cry

Makes my heart afraid,

As though a flute of bone

Taken from a heron’s thigh,

A heron crazed by the moon,

Were cleverly, softly played

From The Collected Works of W. B. Yeats