I don’t think I am a poet. Nor do I think that I can write anything like a<\/p>\n
But I do know what I feel when I walk by the river – that’s when I get emotional. When I feel the smell of water.<\/p>\n
I really ought to learn to swim some day… then I might swim something for you…<\/p>\n
In this TimeOfMadness, when Mr. BadAndVicious and Mr. ViciousAndBad are making the world go around, when everyone knows their Rights and has an Opinion of their own, but has no idea who lives next door, and wish ‘manny happy returns of the day’ by phone, I don’t think it’s a sin to write poor poems.<\/p>\n
Besides, why should I bother to write good poems… Would I know if they were good?<\/p>\n
Like wisdom – when you think to yourself how clever and wise you are, it’s like squeezing the soap a little stronger. It slips from your fingers – everything has its limits<\/p>\n
.Like your patience, I suppose…<\/p>\n
whence so little
\npeace in silence
\ntruth in words
\nreasons in justice<\/p>\n
I toy with words
\nas with people<\/p>\n
and there’s all sorts<\/p>\n
laughter is missing from the joke
\ntalk falls short of communication<\/p>\n
and there’s less and less air
\nin the wind
\nas the dust chokes the throat<\/p>\n
and those who know
\ndon’t seem to want to say
\nhave the houses been forsaken
\nor it’s just that people have left<\/p>\n
shouldn’t toy with words
\nas with people<\/p>\n
humanitarian aid?
\nwelcome to the real world
\nmy friend
\nwe like to eat meat
\n(but we don’t like to see the blood)<\/p>\n
although it must be hard to reach
\nthe end
\nand find you’re only half way through<\/p>\n
my friend MadeOfStones
\nflaming tongues crash the bones<\/p>\n
while the mountains fall
\nsigh like a poem
\ncry like a rhyme<\/p>\n
cannot be free and be happy
\nthere’s a meaning
\nif you’re looking
\nfor a meaning<\/p>\n
and they wander
\nintoxicated
\nby blazing desire
\nand spent with passion
\nthey fly
\nfrom their primal ego<\/p>\n
cannot be free
\nand be Me<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I don’t think I am a poet. Nor do I think that I can write anything like a Poem But I do know what I feel when I walk by the river – that’s when I get emotional. When I feel the smell of water. I really ought to learn to swim some day… then […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"parent":2,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.inter.rs\/aleksic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.inter.rs\/aleksic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.inter.rs\/aleksic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.inter.rs\/aleksic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.inter.rs\/aleksic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.inter.rs\/aleksic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.inter.rs\/aleksic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.inter.rs\/aleksic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}