The East

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    The East

    Reciding in the land of the yellow and red
     In the west the land of the eggroll it is said,
    The food has been amazing that is for certain
     Yet that is the least that lies behind this once hidden curtain,
    It is a place of magical histories past
     A place of emperical order to form a republic at last,
    A land of proud people of culture and class
     A land of beauty and mass,
    For if you like to travel and see things a new
     This is for the adventurer maybe its you.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    strangefellow’s Poems (7)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    move up move on 0
    The East 0
    sloppy soapy softballs 0
    the lessons of iktomi 0
    hope unto the 1
    this land of ours 1
    the sound of or 1