The Road
the road…
dark and stretched
like some strange painting washed across the canvas
envied by the night
a flower’s death
wrinkled torment
what ghosts roam these ancient city walls?
lurking…
waiting patiently
to die
If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) 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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