Dark Poetry #4 |
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Thirteen Months And October |
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trutodaraiders Senior Member
since 2006-12-02
Posts 820CA ![]() |
Foggy nights falling into a naked bed Crisp feet, frigid hands, chilled heart Edged, cumbersome, tired not Sampling from fantasies plenty Of tasted lips, scented hair, or pleasant voice Concrete aches from thankless days Whispers of Thoreau's lovely solitudes Nature's cruel faithfullness Brilliant lakes bathed in beauty Can pain be docile like this Or Fate so cunning and bestial Tapping on perfect clouded glass The leaking rainfalls. Poetry is just the evidence of life. |
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© Copyright 2007 Bill Franklin - All Rights Reserved | |||
sisterlynx New Member
since 2007-01-17
Posts 7 |
I liked the Thoreau reference and that you called fate cunning, and bestial. Leaves the reader wanting to know more.. |
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trutodaraiders Senior Member
since 2006-12-02
Posts 820CA |
Thanks sister I will have a follow up piesce |
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trebuchet Junior Member
since 2007-01-12
Posts 30 |
Liked this overall -- I have to say, though, that "tired not" sticks out like it doesn't quite fit. Perhpas there's another word that communicates this better without having to end a line in "not"? |
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ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
Pleased to read this side of your thoughts Tru. I understood the tired not, as restlessness...a mind moving beyond exhaustion. Perfect clouded glass, and leaking rain...for sure. TD |
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trutodaraiders Senior Member
since 2006-12-02
Posts 820CA |
Thanks Diamond for the understanding i will be posting more in this forum |
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