|
 Menu
|
|
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
|
Still
Contributed by
SweetHeartDealer
on
Saturday, 17th February 2007 @ 11:18:50 AM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Sometimes
when the air is still heavy with darkness
but the breeze smells of dawn
I go
to the cemetery
I sit on worn gravestones,
lean back on my palms
[so when I pick them up again
grit is embedded
in the soft flesh of my hands]
kick my feet,
[but softly, as not to disturb the spirits]
and recite my poetry,
because the dead won't critique
[but they never clap.]
Copyright ©
SweetHeartDealer
... [
2007-02-17 11:18:50]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: Still
(User Rating: 1 )
by Fuzzy on
Saturday, 14th November 2009 @ 12:24:52 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
This is interesting, enjoyed this
Take care
|
|
|
Re: Still
(User Rating: 1 )
by evangelise on
Friday, 20th November 2009 @ 11:38:51 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
| enjoyed this |
|
|
|
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
