WINE AND GATES
Simple As Shapes Of Dear Joy Had...?
olives in your grasp
from the hill of silent beginnings
to a brief encounter with what was
the spoil of under the tongue oft skin
hate, me for a soul to keep...?
the rigor of when, is but a newing gift
to the situating of more than seek, sought feeble
is a future cough of sincerity the only way to live?
truth in a blowing mire of same
the touch of solitude is but a drifting idea
of senses in love with a fear in name
tooth, is wanting more, to view a patient need...?
what?
my eye spies a cream of the crop
coping with a sorrow in the judgment of sigh's of now, thus
the secret of a hill has become, a burden of hope
Hippocrates, and the tale of sides
these freer and days gone bold rainbows
know the life of a sated if not stated bolt of light
as we kept the knowledge of sin the image of again, the stone
hell, for a watched babe
the role of simplicity for a season to approve
the majority of nicety in ways of have
the portion of seclusion been, the ordeal of youth?
prayer is a signature of dreams for heaven...
praise is a lip of kindness, if but the thought for when given...
prowess is a rational of dues in the would of candor, fleeting if saving...
pressure is a persuasion of cold nerves in the still of night, is leaven...?
came
the story of a soldier with a promise to the heeds of shame
then in the spirit of calamity to come, the history won, for sates
of prophecy of a nation without, the very honor, or is that hatred to name
come
the riddles of nature, the fish before the savior of a hum
stupid though a liberty in shadow with a dependency of clashes of loans
care for your own, says the part of grace, this irony is imagined then...
from the hill of silent beginnings
to a brief encounter with what was
the spoil of under the tongue oft skin
hate, me for a soul to keep...?
the rigor of when, is but a newing gift
to the situating of more than seek, sought feeble
is a future cough of sincerity the only way to live?
truth in a blowing mire of same
the touch of solitude is but a drifting idea
of senses in love with a fear in name
tooth, is wanting more, to view a patient need...?
what?
my eye spies a cream of the crop
coping with a sorrow in the judgment of sigh's of now, thus
the secret of a hill has become, a burden of hope
Hippocrates, and the tale of sides
these freer and days gone bold rainbows
know the life of a sated if not stated bolt of light
as we kept the knowledge of sin the image of again, the stone
hell, for a watched babe
the role of simplicity for a season to approve
the majority of nicety in ways of have
the portion of seclusion been, the ordeal of youth?
prayer is a signature of dreams for heaven...
praise is a lip of kindness, if but the thought for when given...
prowess is a rational of dues in the would of candor, fleeting if saving...
pressure is a persuasion of cold nerves in the still of night, is leaven...?
came
the story of a soldier with a promise to the heeds of shame
then in the spirit of calamity to come, the history won, for sates
of prophecy of a nation without, the very honor, or is that hatred to name
come
the riddles of nature, the fish before the savior of a hum
stupid though a liberty in shadow with a dependency of clashes of loans
care for your own, says the part of grace, this irony is imagined then...
Comment On This Poem ---
Simple As Shapes Of Dear Joy Had...?
Simple As Shapes Of Dear Joy Had...?
