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We fell into the whirlpool that spun us to the sun
growing brighter and thinner
What a thing to ponder as we joined the sun in flame
In time it was just a thing we did
A thing we were
Like yesterday or a plastic bag
Puffed up by the wind and tumbling down the street
We are happy enough to leave the details to the sunspots


About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

9 responses »

  1. This makes me smile . . .and I’m sick, so that is really something. ๐Ÿ™‚ Thank you!

  2. I hate to see plastic bags being blown about by the wind. Smacks to me of laziness by people. There’s a tree by our local Tesco’s which is adorned by such things. Makes me shudder. BUT enjoyed the read of sunspots., made me feel warm on this cold day. xPenx

  3. Hello Wath, Thanks for giving me the link to Maron’s site. I should have been able to find it for myself, but sometimes my computer expertise frightens me. This is a wonderful poem. Very yogic – I see you letting go of yesterdays like you would a plastic bag — and leaving the details to an overwhelming force. (Not, as Pen notes, that you would think of littering.)

    • Wow what a cool take on the bag.
      Sometimes I think it would be nice to just become part of the sun for a week or until it melts or explodes or turns to chocolate.

      There is a song I think of often

      Up on the sun
      Where it never rains or snows
      There’s an ocean with a wind that never blows
      And if You see it closer
      Then the finer points will show
      Not too much more
      Too much more
      Not too much….

      Up on the sun
      Meat Puppets

      I don’t talk to people like This in real life.
      I very much enjoy to talk This way though ๐Ÿ™‚


  4. Wath, you are something else, in a very good way! As for not talking like this in real life, that’s what dogs and WordPress are for. I love your perspective on things and think your poetry deserves a large audience.


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