Artist night


Dare not wispy darkness to call
with bells of unbroken promises
into nights of token carelessness
where children plummet into the sea,
tall and full of continuous night.

The brush wraps all sentient form
in pigments of ephemeral imagination
dying on a run of crimson blood,
momentarily everlasting in conceived veracity
as it taps on straws that flee the light.




Poetry by Bob
Read 478 times
Written on 2006-11-16 at 01:43

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Saga
Very good, but a little dark for you!!!
2006-11-16