Road
Doubt takes it’s turn with hesitation,
Far way from the porcelain road.
The glass man’s house,
stands strong against the calm pale slab,
That tell no mention of what the dry doubt had.
Memories to break
at the next dawn.
Stand strong will the glass man,
at least from the dusk
till the sun shines slight
on the mourning dew
surely on the lawn.
08-01-2010
12-23-2009
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Road | 2 | 12/23/2009 |
| Constant’s | 1 | 10/01/2009 |
| One | 1 | 10/05/2009 |
| Continue | 2 | 10/05/2009 |
| Marriage | 0 | 07/07/2009 |
| Is it frothy enough? | 0 | 09/29/2009 |
| Love | 1 | 07/07/2009 |
| To Tell | 2 | 07/07/2009 |
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