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The Note-Book of Poetry
The Note-Book of Poetry :
First man was born,
Then poetry was born,
And became green and blue
By taking root in due course.
Years and years, centuries and centuries,
Millennia and millennia went by
In the meantime;
But all of a sudden one day
Poetry died,
And in its wake, man perished.
From the depths of space.
.
.
.
Today we celebrate "World Poetry Day".
My inner voice sometimes objects to this kind of saying. Why one day? Do we have to celebrate some event and show our gratitude only on this particular day? Of course not, they know that too, but they do it anyway. The people who have a deliberate wish to make us neglect to celebrate it may want to encourage people who happen to miss some important events. But my inner voice rebels.
Anyway, every day is poetry day for me, Here we go!
© UnsOzu
First man was born,
Then poetry was born,
And became green and blue
By taking root in due course.
Years and years, centuries and centuries,
Millennia and millennia went by
In the meantime;
But all of a sudden one day
Poetry died,
And in its wake, man perished.
From the depths of space.
.
.
.
Today we celebrate "World Poetry Day".
My inner voice sometimes objects to this kind of saying. Why one day? Do we have to celebrate some event and show our gratitude only on this particular day? Of course not, they know that too, but they do it anyway. The people who have a deliberate wish to make us neglect to celebrate it may want to encourage people who happen to miss some important events. But my inner voice rebels.
Anyway, every day is poetry day for me, Here we go!
© UnsOzu
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