I am the foreigner, the difficult one, the one with a lost serendipity, lost as far as being taken for the worth words carry, I mean. I am the singular one with the rebellious touch, I am the one that don't shy. I am I.
Graves are constantly dug
at the seditious and insolent end
of time's elevated eye defeat
where balls that dig deep
under the serendipitous star
ringing with your glorious name
– and that other name
that calls for all
one man might need
in a very short time,
no more –
is all I ever will amount to.
Poetry by Bob
Read 580 times
Written on 2008-05-14 at 21:57
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No more
Graves are constantly dug
at the seditious and insolent end
of time's elevated eye defeat
where balls that dig deep
under the serendipitous star
ringing with your glorious name
– and that other name
that calls for all
one man might need
in a very short time,
no more –
is all I ever will amount to.
Poetry by Bob
Read 580 times
Written on 2008-05-14 at 21:57
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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