i've seen his favorite picit looks like a creek
where the ducks go for
a swim
beside it is the green grass
untread upon by the
feet of men
growing tall is the tree
giving shade
to a lost soul
the sun above it
creates the islets of light
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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