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Tilted Stones

Contributed by Sinned on Friday, 18th November 2005 @ 07:12:07 AM in AEST
Topic: surreal



Why do you cry
The grass is green
Flowers cut and strone
Dry your eye
All is not seen What is real and what is not
Monument polished and tiLted stone
Saint and sinner
Together you think we rot
Lover and brother
Of me you think kinder
FLowers wilt and fLowers die
UncLes Aunts
Mother and father
In sadness you pant
The body is here
The soul is gone
Incorupt
Only to go before the Judge
Dry your tear
I was born
Never to die
Heaven or hell will I sup
Do no fear
Do not cry
Pray my soul
I fear His face
Sin I know
In His splender I shall praise
Upright or tilted stone
I fear my spirit to be cold
Dry your tears I shall not raise
Grass and tree wind blown
Be His will is what I crave
I shall be tested as gold
Purgatory will lead me home
Tested by fire o'my soul
Pray my soul time be shorten
Stary nights and bright moon
Praise the Lord for I know
Tall tall grass and leaning stone
I know only my sin
Love is gentel and kind
My Lord My Lord He's calling me home



Sinned


Death is but the begining---Eternity awaits





Copyright © Sinned ... [ 2005-11-18 07:12:07]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Tilted Stones (User Rating: 1 )
by Eternal_Dreamer on Friday, 18th November 2005 @ 07:50:07 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
WoW Dennis this is absolutely awesome. I love the way you've presented this. A captivating heartfelt write that leaves the reader enthralled from start to finish. A talented poet who can always produce a fantastic write. Well done.
Hugs,
~sue~


Re: Tilted Stones (User Rating: 1 )
by Butterflygirl40 on Friday, 18th November 2005 @ 08:08:47 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
wow this is so awsome... such a great write.

I really did enjoy reading it.. thanks for

sharing it... take care:)


Re: Tilted Stones (User Rating: 1 )
by Elizabeth_Dandy on Saturday, 19th November 2005 @ 10:04:01 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
Great poem Dennis,- goes magnificently wity my own postijg ion honor of Christ the King," KINHG OF KINGS"Nobody that clings to him, will perish, but rule with HIM/.

This is the ideal poem for the great Feast - the last one before Advent. Whom do you think ihspired you?
Wonderful job!

Elizabeth




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