Voices
In her naivete,
She felt blind.
It was surreal,
and in her mind
The madness cried
This is a dream.
Her heart became numb,
Her soul became black.
And when she
walked into the dark,
She never came back.
Voices
In her naivete,
She felt blind.
It was surreal,
and in her mind
The madness cried
This is a dream.
Her heart became numb,
Her soul became black.
And when she
walked into the dark,
She never came back.
Tempestlady commented on Voices
02-28-2013
02-22-2013
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.
Title | Comments | Submitted |
---|---|---|
Title | Comments | Submitted |
Happy Dagger | 0 | 10/19/2013 |
Mother. | 0 | 03/06/2013 |
Trudge | 0 | 03/01/2013 |
Discovery | 1 | 02/20/2013 |
Timid | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
Dice | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
Voices | 2 | 02/20/2013 |
Grim | 1 | 02/20/2013 |
Violet | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
BEFORE I CONTINUE! | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
Always Deciding | 0 | 02/20/2013 |
Forgive | 1 | 11/27/2010 |
Missing Pieces | 4 | 09/15/2010 |
The Raven | 1 | 04/21/2010 |
Lost Wings | 1 | 04/18/2010 |
You are | 3 | 04/05/2010 |
Mist | 7 | 02/18/2010 |
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