PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Gandhi staring me in the face.  It’s a cool November evening and I’m waltzing through the old stand by visions of grandeur.  Walt Whitman looks at me perplexed.  I hide from his glances ashamed of my pestilence.  The nag of self doubt is running rampant across my brain.  The landscape of my room remains the same.  I glare back at Gandhi and demand an explanation for his surveillance.  I am too calm to shout.  I don’t throw him across the room.  I am amused by his stature and decide to like him.  It is kind of funny that he never met Walt Whitman before I introduced them.  The odds are against me but I believe I can pull it off.  And all the promise will be fulfilled.  I am delighted with my company.  I toast them with winter lager and take a hearty swig.  November air is good for the soul.  I’ve always found that aphorism to be true.

a peaceful moment

reflection on the giants

of philosophy