Dust
Dust is carried on a moth
Carelessly thrown into the wind
Even around every bend
The dust, like you knows
Sometimes, even glows;
Just as I feel myself becoming…
Never mind that
A candle burns away like my love,
Carried away with the dust
Into the distance I fade
Away…
Away…
Gone.
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| With Love, Yours Truly, Forever and Always | 1 | 10/13/2010 |
| Corporal | 0 | 10/13/2010 |
| Piano | 0 | 10/13/2010 |
| Dust | 0 | 10/13/2010 |
| Repetition | 2 | 10/09/2010 |
| The Night | 1 | 10/09/2010 |
| Paper Thin | 1 | 10/09/2010 |
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