So, the same notebook I wrote the first poem of today in contained this one, and I thought I'd share it, too. I'd forgotten that I wrote it... :)
Beauty
A swan is ugly--
A wayward spirit,
A shadow, or the reflection of one
Drifting on a dark blue lake--
Ice, glass, shallow, smooth--
Bright in the depth of night,
With silver slicing rays, shimmering;
The swan is a puzzle-picture,
Body covered by the down of youth,
Spattered with the feathers of maturity
And so white--
Snow, cloud, paper, salt--
That moonlight casts an ethereal glow
With a spark in eyes that are so serious--
Coal, dark, night, thread--
And a sharp beak,
Set in a plain-feathered face,
Which other birds coo--
Shy, smart, silent, sweet--
The swan sees none of these in the water,
Floating with a serence clumsiness,
A part of the lake, one of her fellows;
It is the lake that pieces the puzzle,
The lake that creates the illusion of beauty--
A swan is ugly.
And...yeah, that wraps that up.

hiya!
Re: hiya!