The END!


I have no rhythm

My muse has deserted me,
My reverie is but a vestige,
It once was a place of creation.
My niche is of ancient Egyptian architecture,
Haunted and spooky,
Empty.
The strings of my harp are but loose,
The pianist is intoxicated,
Demented,
Decapitated.
I am but just living,
I have no rhythm.




Poetry by Advice
Read 297 times
Written on 2011-08-25 at 18:19

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France England
After a night of sincere prayer you held the likeness of me beyond grace. What was will always be, fear not it's only a writer's passage to adventure held up in traffic. Lies telling lies only to be ignored; songs written anew while pleged to the turtle under its shell. To simply live takes courage when everyone else is in celebration of three wishes plus four. You have a sense of direction which is greater than the Foxtrot followed by the Waltz. Great in every sense of the written word. You express so pastel.
2018-10-10


Stan Cooper
It most certainly ain't the end
You've got lots to say and you say it all well

Stan
2011-09-11


jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
yes you do.
2011-08-26


Hans Bump
Coy and intense. I really liked it and will read it again because I think this is one that will age well and keep satisfying.
2011-08-26