Freud is a Fraud! or: Seasons
by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen — Read all 1,670 poems by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I don’t know
If seasons lived
Become more
Sweet, or more
Bitter, anymore.
I know Autumn does,
Because of rotation.
But, what if the ides
Of seasons lived
Became blades
Of non-welcome,
Bitter, evermore?
I expect Winter will
Freeze my bones of notations.
I’m pretty sure I know
Freud is past, seasons
Of reason change,
So does religion.
Bitter, anyone?
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 11/15/07
God bless you. Kathy
Enjoyed the way your poem is so revealing of your rejection of cognitive dissonance.
Love and {{{{hugs}}}},
Leland