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Poverty
Contributed by
plainfreshrain
on
Saturday, 8th November 2008 @ 02:50:45 AM in AEST
Topic:
anguished
|
How oft I loved my boy, but now my own boy is dead
Betwixt the collar of his shirt and his cold white neck
I fixed a sprig of pine, and nudged him out to sea
T’other day I happened to fall in snow and bury my hands
How oft I wished I had buried my boy
For I have nowhere to lay flowers
Copyright ©
plainfreshrain
... [
2008-11-08 02:50:45]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Poverty
(User Rating: 1 )
by SilverRain on
Saturday, 8th November 2008 @ 03:01:37 PM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
You have a very unique and delightful style..love it!
Enjoy your work. Please keep them coming. |
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Re: Poverty
(User Rating: 1 )
by Fionndruinne on
Sunday, 9th November 2008 @ 12:43:59 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
Definitely has a strong scent of Gaelic about it. Nice work.
- A |
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Re: Poverty
(User Rating: 1 )
by callme_spart on
Thursday, 20th November 2008 @ 03:11:23 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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| i truely enjoy your painefully creative way of writing. dark and yet beautiful |
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