Ruined Moon
Melancholy morose moon,
Of which poets can whine;
Ruminate required ruin,
A wilted flower find!
Poetry poses poof
For creeps and geeks to talk.
Languishing loudly lewd.
Oh woe, let’s take a walk!
Ruined Moon
Melancholy morose moon,
Of which poets can whine;
Ruminate required ruin,
A wilted flower find!
Poetry poses poof
For creeps and geeks to talk.
Languishing loudly lewd.
Oh woe, let’s take a walk!
Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.