Possibly one of the best poems I ever wrote.
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Thread Topic: Possibly one of the best poems I ever wrote.
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~ A Journey Of Two Lovers Through Silent Lands ~
Life is like apples from the apple tree,
As sweet and ripe as peaches from a neighbouring tree,
Love is like the passionate spring,
When fox glove's sway from the wind it brings,
In to the wet earth, the white tiger breathes,
Expecting the unruly nefarious teeth,
To bight and fight 'till the tawny sun goes down,
Still feeling reposeful even in freak nature.
Quite evident, it's beauty so is the wild,
But can only get spanked like a child,
Born of fire, in ashes to ember,
Fighting hard for it's trite love to stay together,
Unsatisfied by it's workmanship,
Tired of the unruly anger ready to rip,
Feeling like a placid porpoise in the middle of the trite blue sea,
And exacerbating it all by simply letting it be!
Here flutters the emerald butterfly,
Inside out find Jasper serenic but unsatisfied,
Nethers down to the bark of the hawthorn tree,
Unruly whims exacting to hold down thee,
Exotic conversations like bugs in amber,
Firey souls where she cannot tamper,
She seems uncomposed but in various --
--Conversations seems very nefarious,
The butterfly's passion for it's old cacoon,
To rest in the embrace of the Sycamore's womb,
To forget the rest of the world but the rustle of the trees,
And let her stroke thou hair instead of the breeze,
Love is a pathos quality between two,
So fatigued ver quickly like the wall's paint,
One red, one black, so wicked, so innocent,
Every second of every minute spent,
Her eyes shine as she goes to the otherside,
Where the life there can be so demeaning,
Suddenly afraid to walk this melancholy road alone,
Wanting to hold a hand of sorrow in a throng,
So many... Bright lights that cast a shadow,
On their faces they search for life -- in sorrow,
You are a gangling dead astronaut in space,
But with a sudden whim to die in disgrace,
The mistakes were made when the bee dissociated from the flower,
The thought bloomed in September's solumn hour,
She then knew to be quiet and demure,
But it was too exacting to always be pure,
Today, he is so enervated by it all,
The hangman's hymn echoeing with his weeps and bawls,
So tire from it all, needing her accomodating smile,
For God's love to us all makes it all worth-while.
~Roe, 2011-3-24. -
Great!
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Oh my gosh Roey! That's amazingly awshum!! :D :D
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Thank you so much~! ^-^
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xXWeeWiiXx JuniorHoli crap is so awesomeness! :D
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Thank you so much!! :D
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xXWeeWiiXx JuniorChu tis verreh good wit ze word wranglin' XD
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Aw, thanks so much! Robert Frost is my Poetry Idol. :3
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