Sans Title (Fib No.2)
While
Time
Stands still,
Much promise,
Myriad good things,
Travel on the road of mistakes.
poem by Paul Hartal
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A Paradox of Truth
The truth
Is never simple,
Said Oscar Wilde.
But the aphorism
Is so simple
That it cannot be true.
poem by Paul Hartal
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For Eleanor H. Porter (1868-1920)
The world
Is a more beautiful place
Because of Pollyanna.
The world, however,
Is not a beautiful place
For Pollyanna.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Tail Chasing
The search
for the meaning of life
Is not unlike a cat
that chases its own tail
because the search
is part of the meaning.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Why Tears My Love?
Why
tears
my Love?
I gave you
my heart
and
you cry?
But
then
why do I
cry?
Men
don't cry,
you say.
But I do.
poem by Paul Hartal
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I'm Your Planet
Bright
Beautiful star
Now
I am your planet
Dust and fire
An oozing comet
Revolving
Around you
In close and distant
Orbits.
poem by Paul Hartal
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I Remember Nothing
I remember nothing
I remember no thin
I remember no thi
I remember no th
I remember not
I remember no
I remember n
I remember
poem by Paul Hartal
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A pale sun glimmers
In the downbeat silver sky,
An orange-disc poem,
Swimming between flimsy clouds.
My cheery heart: a ladder.
tanka by Paul Hartal
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Skeptic
Since a good scientist
Is always a skeptic
He doubts
That his mother
Truly loves him.
But because his mother
Truly loves him
He is a bad scientist.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Oh, Poet
Every word
Is a miracle
Every yarn
A syllable.
Oh,
So,
A poet
Is born
Out
Of letters.
For,
If poetry
Is
What poets
Do
Then poets
Are created
By poems.
poem by Paul Hartal
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