From Her I Stumble

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    From Her I Stumble

    Desolation is contagion,
    lost somewhere within
    this abomination
    I call a head.
    My purloined stars dim in their twinkle
    and crimson comes down to sprinkle
    where fallen cherubs reminisce.
    Ambient dilligence, a meaning in Tao
    where I search from even though
    its not worth saving my breath,
    an eternal audience
    where hollow Oaks spill and
    I only taste swill.
    Raptured bust that disappears
    and loneliness peers.

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    WordSlinger commented on From Her I Stumble

    12-05-2009

    I like your style, very original and impressive, it sticks to you that's really good, ty WS

    simoneaugustus commented on From Her I Stumble

    10-06-2009

    I have read several of your works and this is definitely my favorite! It is amazing the amount of emotion you can evoke with your incredible talent.

    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.

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