BROKEN DREAMS

Close to the beauty of nature
Upholding to her daily declaration
So faithful and futile
Which time made known to me
Bathe and drawn in my tears
For a comfortless arm around me.
A toast with the devil define it all
Which the deities of life couldn't change.
Running to the cathedral of refuge
To be waxed and immersed for a new life
Where many have emerged prosperously
But there she came from
In born of the sacred scriptures
For the purpose of good and evil
Making my willingness for her a peccadillo
While her heart wonders for love at proximity
So glad we had it all
But may same as you never come as a wish.




Poetry by Owen
Read 528 times
Written on 2006-11-25 at 19:36

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Phyllis J. Rhodes
I need a better understanding of how you use English to fully appreciate what you have written. But I think I understand the struggle here. It seems her beauty has hidden her dark heart and you need to be rescued. If I am totally wrong, please help me better understand your writing. I am facinated by your use of the language. Is English your first language or do you have another native language. If English is your second language you use it beautifully, more eloquently than most Americans.
2006-12-13