Adam & Eve

4 Comments

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  • Passion

    Adam & Eve

    She took the fruit out of the tree
    gave me some so we could be 
    now our world is gone astray
    An to this God I need to pray

    See what you wish in blinded sight
    Seeking purpose in this game of life
    What is love, is not my name
    What I feel hast brought me shame

    The Razor slices through my soul
    Making one back to the whole
    Spinning in -out and far away
    I walk the path upon the day

    Blow my dust in new direction
    Extinguished in my blind deception
    In two the wilderness of my soul
    Spinning circles, a lost control

    Flowing freely in wakes of love
    Flying free  the wake of doves
    Turn the fire  my swords desire,
    Come see me a new attire

    Don’t lay my life on dusty ground
    Hold me tight til I am found
    The words of life to make all right
     past that’s gone and future bright

    I wish to be  simply a man
    With grace and love to bond this land
    Open thine eye to all Gods glory
    You are the light, an this my story

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    FIREFAIRYMARIE commented on Adam & Eve

    07-02-2009

    Great poem! Good insight and ryme. I really liked the beginning and the end.

    Sx9 commented on Adam & Eve

    04-20-2009

    your comment about one poem was not meter, do you know what poetry is,all those people you see judging poetry what is meter,ones inspiration is not judge by meter, it is your true feelings and thats what care,,walk good..

    NayInLove commented on Adam & Eve

    02-16-2009

    Great poem. I love how you capture the mood :)

    mmichelle97219 commented on Adam & Eve

    02-14-2009

    In your first verse if you remove the AND from the beginning of the lines it would make it an outstanding opening. And at the beinging of poetic lines lessens the impact of the line. The rest of the poem is just fine. Meter good, readable beat great. It is good as is, but it could be fantastic. Michelle

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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