Wednesday, August 3, 2011

On, poetry...

This is a haiku that I wrote several years ago, which I can't get out of my mind:

Pity the drowned moth.
So often do our desires
Become our demise.


  1. The setup: A moth is drawn to a glistening, flickering flame, and drawn in, singes his wings and flits away to a puddle. But then, as his wings get saturated, he gets stuck to the water and slowly drowns.

  2. No, no light or flame. Just a glass of wine.