This Scarecrow

 

The books are rocks

in the land of myself;

the thoughts are flowing water,

my path winds

from nothing to nothing

 

I glimpse,

sitting on my shoulders

 

Everything is a mirage

of its parts

 

Its parts are the way

the mind works

 

Leave it to itself!

 

Complicated worries

usually have simple solutions,

though nothing may change

 

Calm nothingness

holds this scarecrow

 

The wind howls

 

 





Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 97 times
Written on 2022-11-01 at 09:35

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Ingvar this seems to me like a self commentary in poetic form. As such it gives a fascinating glimpse into a thought process. The randomness of the content emphasises this. I especially liked:
'Everything is a mirage of its parts'... so true.
Allen
2022-11-02