On one of my last strolls, I saw a mountain range and thought,
“The world's a painting, is it not?
What a brilliant imitation...
What exuberant delineation
Covers every single spot
Of beauty in all nations
As ingredients in a pot...”
A little after then, I stopped
The travelers in march,
Dressed at large,
Joking, and whatnot;
Clothing formal worth noting
Or scarce and provoking
To cover the need for eloping
Through better jobs.
That was when the question was brought:
“Who's imitating—the world or the paintings...
Or are they confabulating to construct us? ”
Edwin Cordero's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Human Construction by Edwin Cordero )
- Strip unfinnished, lee fones
- Will You Love Me When I'm Old, Lilly Emery
- You Won't Let Me, Heather Burns
- Love Is The Flame, Lilly Emery
- A HERE WE PART و من هنا نفترق, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Fading Into Yesterday, Heather Burns
- Love Never Truly Ends, Lilly Emery
- Oh Mediterranean Sea, Lilly Emery
- Calculating The Odds, Kyle Schlicher
- Wind Poem, Kyle Schlicher