 |
By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
|
Post your favourites or even your own work on here.
2am, green LED hue,
Sprinkles the room and heightens my view,
Alone with my shame and the absence of you,
Took what you wanted and broke me anew. |
Reply privately, Reply in forum +quote
or View forums list | |
|
By *stellaWoman
over a year ago
London |
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The d*unkenness of things being various.
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes—
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands—
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.
Louis Macneice - Snow |
Reply privately, Reply in forum +quote
or View forums list | |
|
By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
|
"The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The d*unkenness of things being various.
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes—
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands—
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.
Louis Macneice - Snow"
Such an underrated poet. |
Reply privately, Reply in forum +quote
or View forums list | |
|
By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
|
Sometimes it has to be big Willie.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. |
Reply privately, Reply in forum +quote
or View forums list | |
|
By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
|
From the panes a green mist swirls
Is it a shadow of reflection?
This apparition in moon beams bathed
A voice like wind through trees beckons
Cool rain on hot summer stone
The odor fills my presence
Of freshly dug grave and death and night
These things are her essence
Nocturnal mistress, spirit lover
Your mouth of wine and woodsmoke taste
My goddess of the violet twilight
You are lust incarnate
In the sweat of my bed
The eastern sky hints of dawning
Alone and awake but exhausted I lie
Oh how I hate the morning
I hate the morning (light)
I hate the morning (light) |
Reply privately, Reply in forum +quote
or View forums list | |
» Add a new message to this topic
