DarkVortex
Novice
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words." -Robert Frost
Posts: 36
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Post by DarkVortex on May 17, 2005 14:06:18 GMT -5
Tis such a night of renown and dread. Midnight tears upon drip a fear already fed. Such a forlorn tale of death opressed in thy flesh. Horridly a mile short of breath submersed in mesh.
Often thoughts of a lover upon a hill in such tranquility. Arouse thy eye's in such ways adored by her personally. Tho given birth to seeds of lust and glamour. Upon this state I fly by Gabriel's wings in the hour.
Validated a welcomed purpose sculpt's a new look. Ever upon december this heart she gracefully took. Lavish thy no grace for upon elegance unveil's her face. Nor never a baneful doubt since in her I found my place.
Along thee side on a cloud so eminent above the sky. Closing my eye's and heart for her all awhile we fly. For thy longed this obliged day we will certainly save. Until death do us part upon the light of our grave.
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Post by Cadre on May 21, 2005 9:12:39 GMT -5
Beautiful wording. Great job.
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