Passonate writing and love writing poems
Oh, I am weak to serve thee as I ought; My shroud of flesh obscures thy deity, So thy sweet Spirit that should embolden me
By Bg Das3 years ago in Poets
I saw fond lovers in that glow That oft-times fades away too soon: I saw and said, 'Their joy I know -
Give me truths; For I am weary of the surfaces, And die of inanition. If I knew Only the herbs and simples of the wood,
Upon a gnarly, knotty limb That fought the current's crest, Where shocks of reeds peeped o'er the brim,
Like the tenth wave, that offers to the shore Accumulated opulence and force, So does my heart, which thought it loved of yore,
He stood where all the rare voluptuous West, Like some mad Maenad wine-stained to the breast, Shot from delirious lips of ruby must
Some children are so naughty, And some are very good; But the Genteel Family Did always what it should.
No flowery path to glory leads. This truth no better voucher needs Than Hercules, of mighty deeds. Few demigods, the tomes of fable
How does Love speak? In the faint flush upon the tell-tale cheek, And in the pallor that succeeds it; by The quivering lid of an averted eye -
Somewhere afield here something lies In Earth's oblivious eyeless trust That moved a poet to prophecies - A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust
Some love to stroll where the wassail-bowl And the wine-cups circle free; None of that band shall win my hand:
Come, walk with me, There's only thee To bless my spirit now We used to love on winter nights To wander through the snow;