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Truth is ...
it's complex but simple
And not always best
Its hidden but open
yet wouldnt be guessed
It lies within layers
And sits at the core
It closes a window
But opens a door
It's active yet dormant
In fact its absurd
Always it's spoken
But never is heard
It's pointless but clever
As what it's achieved
Is a widley known fact
That is never believed
It's soft on the inside
And has a hard case
It knows where to be
But cannot find a place
It sweeter than sugar
And bitter than stout
It's free as a bird
But will never get out.
And not always best
Its hidden but open
yet wouldnt be guessed
It lies within layers
And sits at the core
It closes a window
But opens a door
It's active yet dormant
In fact its absurd
Always it's spoken
But never is heard
It's pointless but clever
As what it's achieved
Is a widley known fact
That is never believed
It's soft on the inside
And has a hard case
It knows where to be
But cannot find a place
It sweeter than sugar
And bitter than stout
It's free as a bird
But will never get out.
Replies to This Post
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Permalink Reply by Chris Newman on -
Thank you xx
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Permalink Reply by Pete (Thed) on -
This is really good Heather...also made me think of Auden "tell me the truth about love":
O Tell Me The Truth About Love
Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.
Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.
Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.
Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.
I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.
Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.
When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
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Permalink Reply by david barron on -
So true and once uttered very hard to put back in it's box. The most dangerous thing in the world cold hard honest truth. very good I liked it. dave
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