The Rising
THE RISING
The sky was a sea of rolling red waves;
Crimson blood flooded the new dawn,
Enveloping the vast blanket of darkness
As Mother Earth,
Welcomed the birth,
Of another
Golden Morn.
By Rita K. Webb
The Rising
THE RISING
The sky was a sea of rolling red waves;
Crimson blood flooded the new dawn,
Enveloping the vast blanket of darkness
As Mother Earth,
Welcomed the birth,
Of another
Golden Morn.
By Rita K. Webb
RettaJ commented on The Rising
05-14-2010
gogant commented on The Rising
04-25-2010
WrittenJustice commented on The Rising
03-12-2010
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
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