Throughout the echoing chambers of my brain
I hear your words in mournful cadence toll
Like some slow passing-bell which warns the soul
Of sundering darkness. Unrelenting, fain
To batter down resistance, fall again
Stroke after stroke, insistent diastole,
The bitter blows of truth, until the whole
Is hammered into fact made strangely plain.
Where shall I look for comfort? Not to you.
Our worlds are drawn apart, our spirit's suns
Divided, and the light of mine burnt dim.
Now in the haunted twilight I must do
Your will. I grasp the cup which over-runs,
And with my trembling lips I touch the rim.
Amy Lowell
Poems from my favorite poets, Photo-shopped images/backgrounds that I created for some of them, poetry that I have written. This is a place for me to explore the beauty of words, poetry, life. It's my happy place.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
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The Secret
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(Arid means dry; without rain) ONCE more into my arid days like dew, Like wind from an oasis, or the sound Of cold sweet water bubbling unde...
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"I hate the way you talk to me And the way you cut your hair I hate the way you drive my car I hate it when you stare I hate your bi...
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You are the secret my heart holds silently, quietly, gleefully. When life erupts around me or tu...
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