Who Makes These Changes?
Who makes these changes?
I shoot an arrow right.
It lands left.
I ride after a deer
and find myself chased by a hog.
I plot to get what I want
and end up in prison.
I dig pits to trap others
and fall in.
I should be suspicious
of what I want.
7 comments:
No, really, what?
Two roads convered in the woods.
Quote the raven never more.
Roses are red.
I'm done.
Love this poem!
On a related note (to the poem and our nice time at the Hills): "Who is it that can tell me who I am?"
(King Lear 1.4).
LOVE it.
OK, friend, what got you into poetry by Rumi? And where'd you find this one? I love it!
I once knew a guy (VERY artsy type) who named his son Rumi -- after this very same poet. When Rumi (the kid, not the poet) was 4, he had hair like Landy Mitchell. It was uncanny how much he looked like a girl. He was beautiful! I could never keep from staring at him.
I know you wanted to know that.
I've been out of town so I'm catching up...
There once was a man from Perth
Who was born on the day of his birth
He was married they say
On his wife's wedding day
And died when he quitted this earth
Ta Da!
Post a Comment