Poetry

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive
Sometimes it seems
That the day starts well
When all is planned
And pain repelled

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive
The onslaught of this year's bleary mishaps is nothing new to me
Depriving my soul of more enviable emotions which come in short spurts,
I've been vacillating from one close shave into another dire stance
Hastily exacerbating my nine lives with my misdeeds pursuing success.

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive

Theirs is a strange art, the weaving of

Air and sound into a weightless tapestry

hanging in the church, a vibrating cloth free

of sorrows that clothes men with God's love

 

Star InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar InactiveStar Inactive
When life is reduced to moments, moments become so precious. Anguish stays not when love makes one forget and besotted.

User Rating: 5 / 5

Star ActiveStar ActiveStar ActiveStar ActiveStar Active
24 April 2015  9:09 AM
Fancy words long and eloquent