Friday, March 16, 2007

this light little poem explains itself

This one is a language game, no more, no less.

Same Endings in Different Places

A little old man was pushing a plow
In his garden when a strong wind did blow.
He folded his arms and stifled a cough.
He whispered: “Why has the wind got so rough?
I can’t plow the ground in this kind of wind
Season’s almost done and I’m in a bind.
Soon there’ll be rain and should I make a trough
When the rain will make my garden a slough?”
He looked down and saw a wind-beaten moth
“Didn’t notice you, the wind hates us both.
It goes to blow one way and then it rescinds
It always rescinds as much as reminds.
Bah, wasn’t what Heraclitus said nice?
You never can walk through the same river twice.”

No comments: