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D E L E R I U M
wash the sins
remove the clots of history
caught between us
like a shadow borne
an orphan of love
that rocks the doors
adorns the chairs
our restless dreamfire
shoal with sleeping
bottom shorn ideals
awake
the soul of sadness
sobbing in the light
of sighing streetlamp
lonliness
hushed like a wind
that huddles against
the chest needing
comfort
needing love
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north ontario
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Comments
Candlewitch
Sun, 2012-03-04 07:49
hello,
very powerful and descriptive. strong emotions here. very moving.
our restless dreamfire
shoal with sleeping
bottom shorn ideals
awake
always, Cat
*
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Esker
Mon, 2012-03-05 12:09
Thank You Candlewitch
From your tremendous talents and dark pen I thank you and Eddy!
author commentloved
Sun, 2012-03-04 09:06
The in depth meanings of your poetry
The in depth meanings of your poetry
needs an experts eye,
like an eagle's
to steep from the sky,
dive and swipe
wantonly....
loved
Esker
Mon, 2012-03-05 12:10
wantonly with meaning
your passion reads my passion
this poetry scene alive
thank you
author commentemogothgirl
Sun, 2012-03-04 14:32
for a shorter one it packs a punch
it reminds me that i'm lonely at the moment, but since we're talking poetry here, that's a good thing! loved it.
always,
mag
Esker
Mon, 2012-03-05 12:11
Shorter lonely poetry punch
I bask in your word useage
like watching the blade handler
hurl knives at his pretty assistant
in the evening lights
the dark romance of lonliness
and that hungry desire that
keeps poets writing
Thank You
author commentwesley snow
Mon, 2012-03-05 12:24
See?
This sort of went over my head, but I still could not have stopped reading it to save my soul.
I just don't get it. Who the hell are you anyway?
wesley
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Esker
Mon, 2012-03-05 18:08
Wes!
It was Poe that transcended me from the strange world of poetry
when I was sixteen...and that was finalized when I bought Milton
at the library book sale when I was twenty nine. Milton was this
huge book of the most unknown kind of works I had read..But I
plowed through it because it bent my brain and kept me going
over the edge in a very trying time of my life.. And before long
I started to understand the language and by the time I had fnished
the book I had found a new language of poetry that I still hold
dear to me today. We were taught classical works throughout
school Canadian and American and the irish too
I once almost bought Dylan Thomas's Christmas album of him
reading his works..Instead I bought Kennedies innagural adresse
but that is the past... Free verse is the strangest place in poetry
its like high brow advertisements
mind candy bitter and sweet
I read parts of your Cantos
and will continue to come back to it
and go over it
Thank You for you comments!
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