posts 3/24/2006 6:56 pm
3/27/2006 7:31 am
|Don't much feel like blogin. Heres a poem I finally finished today.|
I called home once Bleaker Street.
And though a Poet soul,
I cried no Holy sacrament.
Thirty dollers paid the rent.
Shadows touching Shadows hands,
in alleys where men sleep.
Fight the shrouded foggy vast,
to pierce the vail that clouds the past.
Black iron church bells softly peal,
spilling down a melody,
it falls upon that sad cafe.
No roads from here to Cannan lay.
Smiling faces can't understand,
and pyre light could not reveal,
what hides the sheperd from the sheep,
and holds these souls to Bleaker street.
3/26/2006 8:08 pm
It is unusual how the deepness and darkness of something can touch you as much as it's intent for hope and solace.|
I like it