Krishnamurti... "It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society."


Scent

"What is that I can smell on you?
Did you stop somewhere to take time?
I believe you have been in the company
Of flowers and you smelt them!
Didn't you?"
He says without joy.

I head around the corner smoothly
To cast my petals windwards -
Return to explain divisions
And how he cannot rule me.
So he outcasts me immediately.

He seems to have this power
In his own mind absolute.
He imagines he means something
To me...knows my mind and cares...

I saunter away from him.
There are perfumes waiting.
But not in his hands.









Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 579 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2012-06-27 at 03:46

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Nils Teodor The PoetBay support member heart!
I enjoyed reading this
Well done
Thanks for sharing
N T
2012-07-06


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the front page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry web site.
2012-07-01


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
As they say here in the Midwest, "Yessiree, Bob." There are things, important things, which can't be entered into ledgers.
2012-06-30


countryfog
I'm not sure how to praise this suffuciently, except that "you" is also "me," I am in and of this poem and fervently wish I had written it.
2012-06-27