the poet and the gun
Filtering through my senses I can see no other dream…
This life escapes me as does the meaning of the hour…
My broken world hangs like burnt skin and there is little to be thankful
for except my intentions…
My awful remorse will go unnoticed…
This final moment passes through my veins like sour wine...
Your song has faded and this ancient hour is gone...
I say my last farewell blaming the sun and the moon and the rain...
And I blame God; the most wretched of us all...
PoetsofBlood commented on the poet and the gun
01-07-2010
SILKYTWEED commented on the poet and the gun
06-26-2009
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| It Is The Night | 0 | 02/07/2010 |
| The Road | 0 | 07/17/2009 |
| I Am Witness To A Murder | 2 | 07/17/2009 |
| the poet and the gun | 2 | 06/09/2009 |
| Listen Slowly | 1 | 06/09/2009 |
| Untitled | 0 | 02/19/2009 |
| Untitled | 0 | 02/19/2009 |
| There Is A Slow Storm Coming | 0 | 02/18/2009 |
| Untitled | 0 | 02/18/2009 |
| Untitled | 0 | 02/18/2009 |
| Untitled | 1 | 02/18/2009 |
| Untitled | 1 | 02/18/2009 |
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