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Open Poetry #38
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CastleGuard
Senior Member
since 2003-04-30
Posts 760
Alberta, Canada

0 posted 2006-07-13 02:08 PM



Oh, dear Beauty - thou art the life that lifts
A soul above the edge of doom; when hope
Is lost, and naught is left but sorrow's gifts;
When one will face the dark and silent cope
With the murmuring shade of aching flow —
Yet, there is no fear of such a doomed fate
When thine eyes cast forth their warming glow    
And melt the icy floes that drift in wait -
When thine image wafts into the dreams
Bedewing the parched desert of the heart —
And there within a hope of love then gleams
And waits, thine lips to form the cryptic dart:
Beauty, thou art the life that giveth breath,
Yet thine lips may but equal deal out death.

CG

© Copyright 2006 CastleGuard - All Rights Reserved
Kristabell
Senior Member
since 2003-11-29
Posts 678
Portland, OR
1 posted 2006-07-13 06:42 PM


Very nice. I like the old style writing you used.

Kristabell

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