Not a biblical poem, if that's what you're thinking.
To cross the springs on tuesday
And come out smelling like roses
Their scent an odor fume
Wednesday morning brings good tidings
On a gust of foggy air
The door of dawnlight slowly closes
Fades away to silent bloom
Thursday afternoon is hazy
You remember many fingers
Wrapped around your pale wrist
Your arm asleep inside your chest
The relief of sudden friday
With its satin silky bosom
Leans apon you in the mist
And you are motionless at best
Saturday is quite the morrow
Strolling through the shades of green
They stand each up and smile starlet
In the dying of the day
It is this, that on the sunday
Retributed on the road
The tired sun yawns rays of scarlet
In the river, to the bay
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 481 times
Written on 2007-03-24 at 08:03
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
A Sunday Drive When The River Runs Red
Have you taken any timeTo cross the springs on tuesday
And come out smelling like roses
Their scent an odor fume
Wednesday morning brings good tidings
On a gust of foggy air
The door of dawnlight slowly closes
Fades away to silent bloom
Thursday afternoon is hazy
You remember many fingers
Wrapped around your pale wrist
Your arm asleep inside your chest
The relief of sudden friday
With its satin silky bosom
Leans apon you in the mist
And you are motionless at best
Saturday is quite the morrow
Strolling through the shades of green
They stand each up and smile starlet
In the dying of the day
It is this, that on the sunday
Retributed on the road
The tired sun yawns rays of scarlet
In the river, to the bay
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 481 times
Written on 2007-03-24 at 08:03
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
kath |
Texts |
by weirdzarun Latest textsRoseI've got you New Poetland Bells h My favoritesStanding Ovation |
Increase font
Decrease