Save me.

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  • Sadness

    Save me.
    Save me. I’m lost and I’m wounded.
    Seeking safe port from the oncoming rain.
    Sadness and sorrow grip my heart, coldly.
    Stealing blindly through the black of night.
    I’m wandering.

    Wish I could fly. . . . .

    Spread my fragile wings.
    Soar high above the darkness and the danger.
    Sail away. The storm, left behind, longing.
    Searching blindly for the rainbow’s end.
    I’m dreaming.



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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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