oh! that mystic moon
appearing as a prophet of love
guiding me through this turbulent world
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oh! that mystic moon
appearing as a prophet of love
guiding me through this turbulent world
nice poem
well-written
making me wish
I was smitten
Leaves of gold
Covered my cold grave
With promise of the spring-time
Soon to come.
What hangs in the balance
but levity
the lighter, the better.
Running Out of Esteem
It’s a lie that liquid courage flows
With whiskey, ale, and port.
Why can’t they bottle confidence
and sell it by the quart?
hungry eyes
profiles of slow memories
wasting space
Everytime I dream of you,
I almost wake up to hold your hand
...someday I would do it before you go
Hippocampus
bred in the bone
or
bred in the blood,
loved by the son
or
lost to the sea,
pearl of the Muses
or
quarry of the Naiads,
shrill of the Trident
or
quest of Diana.
Pegasus --
client or suppliant?
For just a parquet rivulet.
Future time travel --
Traffic slate --
Past-times
Then substantiate . . .
Revelations
Denigrate;
Prepubescence
Spurns its fate.
: am I
She lied that she loved me,
She lied to you, too
And we had what each other wanted.
No Show
For years I hung
around by the door,
as cobwebs clung
from ceiling to floor.
All stayed the same
through lures and strange stunts.
the knock never came –
not even once.
very sad poem, Aunt. Are you okay?
The clock ticking on the wall
endless circles similar to those
made by a pebble flicked into a lonely pond,
without meaning,
time,
counting down..
This reminds me of the beautiful image near the close of Pope's immortal poem, "An Essay on Man."Quote:
Originally Posted by balehead
If you haven't already read it, you really should. It's probably available on-line.