Sunday, November 4, 2012
It is an autumn day, in the autumnal part of my life, as I walk along the blown leaves of November. Surely, I must walk slower now, for there is really nowhere to go, and there is no urgency to get there. I wish I had known this earlier in life and swam like a goldfish, rather than been maddened as a hound in a chase. I would have been leisurely, regal, and admired by emperors for my calmness and deep reflections. But, here is autumn, and there is still gold in the maple leaves that fly about me.
By koon woon - November 04, 2012
Click on Poetry above to view Thomas Hubbard's two poems
See Liam Roche's poems under Five Willows Poetry http://fivewillowspoetry.blogspot.com
Goldfish Press, the publishing arm of the Chrysanthemum Literary Society, is happy to announce that it is collaborating with Asian Cha journ...