Night

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  • Art

    Night

    Permitted benevolence of doyenne

    Embellished evening gown

    Tailored in the exquisite jewels

    Illuminating with every stride

    Façade held by she

    Melodic voice enticing spirteless ones

    Only realize their demise greeting Hades

    If one behold the truth

    Herself would allow thee to pass

    Another day would be meet

    A time ago came her benevolence

    Pardon thee bequeath sanctuary

    Acquiesce gratitude

    Chimera stands with a watchful eye

    Sit one's self upon pinnacle

    Piece of parchment with quill in thy hand

    Thoughts come forth that of river amid a valley

    Appreciative austere landscape

    Concealment of such milieu

    On goings one's life in solitude

    Pleasant for what tis worth

    Oscillation waters swell to recede

    Gale rose forth encouraging nudge

    Silent stare

    Ache reminisce

    Shade bearing a missive

    Spoke of thee

    Grasp only to vanish that of dream

    Staunch to thy vows

    Clouded veil over thee

    Swells trickle forth

    She came to conceal thy discarded shell

    Soothing thee wiping away droplets

    Summon thy mount ride

    Compelled thine side

    Repetitive as all may sound

    Tis nothing more than truth

    Falsehood can not be

    Inquiry for thee

    Come forth speak

    Tis thee one seeks

    Hide not take thy hand

    Trust as thee has trusted

    Sooth rumbling from within

    If not to be true banish thee the lands

    Vanish as it were

    A blur

    Tormented by the longing

    Of belonging

    Strife in one's slumbers

    Prolong detachment a means the unbecoming

    Passing time

    Unwinding toward the waking of the be

    Humor, one's antics elude the obvious

    Written upon thy face tis not

    Clever doyenne bestow aptitude mislead as she

    If thee may behold

    Foretold casting of thyself

    Spinning tapestries like Arachnid

    Capturing one's quests ; experiences

    In hopes to repent

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    WordSlinger commented on Night

    04-01-2009

    Chimera stands with a watchful eye, thats me, I like your style very original

    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

    ErOsdesire’s Poems (11)

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