George Beecher
George Beecher Poems
We are like apples - Each rolls
Around taking its own course
But all eventually have the juice
Squeezed out - Some are thrown out
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You think you've got troubles -
There is always someone having worse -
Your trouble is you've got
A terminal disease called Vita Brevis -
...
A winter of words falls over me
Like night - All I can speak
Is snow to whirl and drift The winter quarters of my heart
Withdraw from challenges of warmth
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Why the world - Why are we here -
You may ask how but never why -
The world is always flowing -
Heraclitus said long ago
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The Best Poem Of George Beecher
Simile Of The Cider Mill
We are like apples - Each rolls
Around taking its own course
But all eventually have the juice
Squeezed out - Some are thrown out
Before reaching the mill - those with worms
And rot make a bad taste - Some
With richness of soil minerals
Make a fine drink How do we grow? Do we ask
Why there is a mill
Or who is to take a drink?
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4/20/2024 8:41:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
