Shared Experience

[Scythe]

I don't ever write poetry. Ever. So why did I write this one? I dunno... I got the idea from something I read, and it's been bugging me since. Read it though, I think it's kinda good; for me, anyway.



Why love the boy in a March field with his kite braving the sky?
Because our hands burn with the hot string singeing our fingers.

Why love some girl viewed from a train, bent to a country well?
The tongue remembers iron water cool on some long lost noon.

Why weep at strange children hungry by the road?
On them, we see the faces our friends, our family.

Why laugh when clowns are hit by pies?
We taste the whipped cream.



We taste life.



Why love the woman who stands by your side?
Her nose breathes the air of a world I know, therefore I love that nose.
Her ears hear the song I might sing half the day through, therefore I love those ears.
Her tongue knows doritos, mint, peach, pizza and caramel; I love to hear it speak.
Her flesh knows heat, cold, and pain; I know fire, ice, and affliction.

Shared and again shared experience.
We love what we know, we love what we are. Common cause, common cause, common cause of eye, ear, hand, tongue, nose, flesh, heart, and soul.


[/end musing]

[piñata]

Man, that's deep. Why did you write it? Something really interesting had to be behind the inspiration for that one.

Good job, Scythe.

[Scythe]

Heehee thanks. maybe there were marijuana fumes on the wind that day or something...I dunno. Contemplative moods are kinda something I tend to get into a lot though...oh well. No use crying over spilled minutes....er...milk. ;D

[piñata]

Well, anyway, it's really good for a first poem... I wish I could write them that well when I first started.

Hell, I still can't write that well.