but coming so far,
these travails pass into mist...
rather like kisses.
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but coming so far,
these travails pass into mist...
rather like kisses.
Rather like kisses
It seems the funeral hymn
Has lost its glory
Has lost its glory,
Like a crudely dethroned king,
Cold over the sun.
Cold over the sun
Embraces a freezing heart
Palms leave a warm glow
palms leave a warm glow
on the rush of oiled flesh
sun rises unseen
Sun rises unseen
With the shining stars in view
To a barren oak.
To a barren oak
Mothers present shiny tithes
And mine? We question..
And Mine? We Question..
The reflection captured in its luster.
Avalon's misty veils are lifted.
hi, Stingray! and welcome. :)
did you perhaps mean to write:
And Mine? We Question..
The reflection captured in
its luster. Ava-
lon's misty veils are
lifted...
we follow a 5-7-5 syllabic structure. love the reference to the Isle of Mist, btw!
i'll pick up from your poem. :)
lon's misty veils are
lifted; don quixote seeks,
however, in vain.
However, in vain
Evil always taunts virtue,
Like the thorns of vines.
Like the thorns of vine
Completing the thin red line
Generating sin
Generating sin,
The souls transmigrate in life,
Cycling in vice.
Cycling in vice
A white moral prostitute
Still eats oranges
cycling in vice,
strolling in debauchery,
hedonism glows.
hedonism glows,
hedonism grows; naught is
stunted but morals.