picture by rhoda penmarq
 it's never time to turn the page it's always time to blow some gage don't worry about anything the telephone will never ring the landlord's footsteps softly fall disappearing down the hall outside the windswept raindrops sweep across the street's eternal deep nothing else will ever be this is the reality the book falls from the dreamer's hand blue waves on blue and silver sand no prophet, hierophant or sage tells it truer than righteous gage |
That was really cool. And now I have bookmarked some Langston Hughes to read, as a result of being so unhip as to not know what 'gage' was. It looks interesting! Loved this poem - thanks for it, and for the spur to thought.
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This made my weekend.
ReplyDeletelol.
ReplyDelete*clapping*
Lxx
Go Horace!
ReplyDeleteAnd, Old 333,Langston Hughes was great. He wrote my favorite poem:
Luck
Sometimes a crumb falls
From the tables of joy
Sometimes a bone
Is flung.
To some people
Love is given,
To others
Only heaven.