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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


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Read books online » Poetry » Reflections by Susan H Trought (phonics readers .txt) 📖

Book online «Reflections by Susan H Trought (phonics readers .txt) 📖». Author Susan H Trought



Sign Language

He yawned and looked me straight in the eye.
I smiled enquiringly.
He shuffled and raised his eyebrows
I nodded encouragingly.
He grinned and lowered his eyes.
I sniffed impatiently.
He sat back in his seat and stretched
I sighed despondently.

He raised his eyes again to mine
I groaned belatedly
He stretched his hand into the air
I moved most grudgingly
He looked and knew I could not help
Invigilatingly!


Being

Hardness shows in the face.
Faces often lie.
Lines show weariness, complexity
Of character
You and I.

Life comes from the face.
Life can often lie.
Hardness shows superficial bravery
Of a person
You and I.

The eyes are the character.
Eyes never lie.
Hurt, emotional, loving, kind.
What can be seen
In you and I?

One must look to the depths
As mien hardly lies.
The eyes, the pool of every thought
The soul the base
Of you and I.


Moment

Lessening, releasing –yet
Rushing, surging
Blood, being temper
Almost.

Falling, pulling – yet
Taut, mystified
Thinking, creating
Perhaps.

Crying, motion – yet
Joy, life, everything.
The whole.
Yes.


Play

Love:
Tortured dream of reality

Lust:
Real dream of torture

Life:
Dream of real torture

But what to do?
Love life lustfully away
In torture, my love?

Sad:
Tear sweeping moment

Sin:
Sweeping moment of tears
Sex:
Tearful moment of sweeping joy.

But what to do?
Momentarily sweep the tears
Away in joy, my love?

That’s what I’ll do


Reflection

Yes, I have travelled
Along the road to now.

Up against them
It and us
To then.

Once I knew nothing
Nought and all
‘Til this.

I’ve been through affairs
Tranquil and tortured.
Now this!

Basic security, superficial
Strength and weakness
Combined in me
And him.
Together to what?
How alone?
Then, now.
‘Til this and him.


I’m Sorry

I’m sorry, Mum.
I didn’t mean it,
Eating the last cake.

I’m sorry, Mum.
I knew you’d seen it,
Standing there awake.

I’m sorry, Mum.
I meant to tell you:
Scoffing every crumb.
I’m sorry, Mum.

I’m sorry, Mum.
I knew you’d hate it,
Being on a diet.
But that’s the reason that I ate it…!

O.K. I’ll be quiet.


My Best Mate

He’s going out with someone
But I don’t know who!
He’s got a girlfriend
But I don’t know why!
He’s taking her to the movies
But I don’t know when!
He’s gone to her house
But I don’t know where!

He’s packed in football
But I don’t know why!
He’s packed in biking
But I don’t know when!
He’s got a girlfriend
But I don’t know why!


Imprint

Publication Date: 02-14-2011

All Rights Reserved

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