The Demon
She paints the night with silence now…
Echoes are all I hear…
And to this loneliness I will bow…
And face this I fear…
This demon that comes upon me…
I will surrender no more…
But stand and face as should be…
And return to her as before…
No more of my loss to lament …
A resolve sets in my heart…
I will not rest or be content…
Until I hew this demon apart…
Let my actions speak for me now…
I lay the quill aside…
When at her feet I will bow…
And with her abide…
Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Sweet Dreams | 1 | 11/25/2009 |
| Music | 3 | 09/26/2009 |
| Seasons | 2 | 09/26/2009 |
| silence | 4 | 09/26/2009 |
| Her Embrace | 0 | 09/26/2009 |
| Her Memory | 1 | 09/26/2009 |
| The Demon | 0 | 09/26/2009 |
| Alone | 0 | 09/26/2009 |
| Dreams Oft Come | 0 | 09/26/2009 |
| Autumn Sun | 1 | 09/26/2009 |
| e- | 2 | 02/16/2009 |
| I'm Only Mortal | 7 | 01/26/2009 |
| Autumn Girl | 4 | 01/26/2009 |
| Indi Eyes | 3 | 01/26/2009 |
| Autumn Mist | 3 | 01/20/2009 |
| the fool... | 5 | 11/25/2008 |
| She Taught me.... © | 3 | 11/24/2008 |
| Wo Ai Ni © | 3 | 11/24/2008 |
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