Untitled
The bodies were passionless,
with unforgiving limbs.
They move unexpectedly,
And there's nothing to offer except bone.
What was once there,
Is there no longer.
How frail my heart became,
Once his words became routine.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| The Seduction of Adam | 0 | 10/07/2009 |
| Untitled | 0 | 10/07/2009 |
| The nearness of you | 1 | 05/21/2009 |
| For the love of Jason | 0 | 05/21/2009 |
| Someone to know me | 3 | 05/21/2009 |
| All the words. | 0 | 05/21/2009 |
| To love you is to fear you... | 0 | 05/21/2009 |
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