another entry, another poetry

 Hello Reader,

I wonder how do you want to live your life?

In a lie?

In places that you don't like to be in deep inside?

a life of winter in your age of spring?

what kind of thing as your 

youth, gone sour...

as ashes of death thrown into the wind?

                                    King H. Ironson                 

               

"Thymbraean, Delian, Birth divine,

That walkest Lycia's inmost shrine,

Come, strong to guard, to guide, to follow,

Come, bow in hand and girt with night,

To help thy Dardans as of old,

When stone by stone thy music rolled—

O conquering Strength, O Sire Apollo!—

Young Ilion into towers of light."

(From: Rhesus of Euripides, Translated By Gilbert Murray 1913)

poetry is eternal,

regardless of what you choose 

to do with it

translate,

read

dread

or

fed!

        King H. Ironson

"When the moon at full on the sill of heaven

Lights her beacon, flooding the earth with silver,

All the shining stars that about her cluster

Hide their fair faces;"

(Poems by Sappho, Translated by John Myers O'hara 1910)

another entry,

another poetry

your soul is in cemetery

your body is in purgatory

leave me be

don't thread on me
                            King H. Ironson

(Photograph: Tim Mossholder)