Mystery

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Mystery

The desolate solitude infinitely shivering with a mysterious
passion,
Sacrifices isolated within the presence of my amorist.
Imprisoned by my own heart and feelings,
Profound desires deluging from my soul.
Feelings of a clam peace,
A quiet peace so elongated by the emotions of my love.
~jeb

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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.

jeb’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Alone 1
My Child 1
Mystery 0
Free 0
My Chamber 2
Words of Love 1
Deliver Unto Hell 0
Looking Glass 0
Time 0
Impressions 2