Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Keats and Yeats are on your side . While Wilde is on mine.

I used to write such silly awful poetry .
But in the middle of a lot of it were some rather decent ones.

I have some from a a site a guy I knew ran. I managed to print off the site before it disappeared.

Below isn't one of them . I wrote it yesterday after an unusual  yet very happy fulfilling day. And a 6 hour drive with little sleep.

The deepest howl  dances across the streams of the night
A fluttering of lashes wash out the damage
Begging onlookers to discard their thoughts and look away
Dusk begins yet a again
As the drowning of the yesterday's vulgar dictation commences without circumstance  
The full bloom of crimson warms the light, letting the  day sucks its dying breath
Putting to bed the shadows of a life
Tucked in ,to sleep in the tomorrows  dream

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