My boyfriend dumped me on wednesday. This is the pitiful result of it all. Reminsd me of the saying " a voyer is the worst kind of thief". Oh well. I write what i feel and think.


Held

My mind numbs as summers light dissolves
My sense, as though I were under
Or were frail and grey and going old;
Eighty years in one second's plunder:
It's not through green eyes that I see this world
Or through the full and cloudless skies
In which the stones are hurled.
Beechen green turns brown and Rhya turns her eyes,
And summer fevers the south with hungered green
So by winters fret despair and sorrow gleam.

Wane and quiet and slight disdain
My face, as though I were packed with biting ice
Or the wind veiled, wraithlike in its pains
And hear the leaden-eyed despairs as mice
Where youth grows dull and whitens with fever,
And shakes relentless some morbid, flowing glossy hair.
That I might feeble rusty with a tin hat and a griever
Aghasts my wits with thoughts of when nature takes me there,
Or sacred tombs should hold me in a wintry bed
And no shallow spring or summer odours waft
Because I am dead.




Poetry by Frederick James
Read 932 times
Written on 2006-06-22 at 21:58

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The sadness in this is so overwhelming.
Hope all is okay....
2006-06-23