these days
III
my ravishing girl with fists
leather and lace twisted around
your wings and wrists
a righteous fix of happy madness
and woven ways
with kisses
that claimed my thoughts for days
my honourable and warmest host
gallant hopes departed like ghosts
as i felt you leave
but still you return
and yet you remain
this curious surprise.
IIII
cheronld commented on these days
06-27-2012
07/22/2012
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 |
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| Title | Comments | Submitted |
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| observations in random rows | 3 | 02/07/2012 |
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