Undertaste
There have been times betweenCreased and smooth sheets,
Between the ripened fruits
And the acid undertaste
That life, lends its doubts.
It is a waxed and waning moon
Of incomprehensible directions.
I can't plot stars, or chart a map.
I take a nap, to just awake
A little less disorientated
But just as much confused.
I have a bawdy sense of humour
And I am as earthy as any
Dweller in this time and space.
I live, laugh, cry and sometimes
I hide in the turreted castles
That so infest my mind.
I am pragmatist and dreamer,
Never seeming to ever meet.
Love me, hate me or just
Be plain indifferent.
It is not important
I have my place
And each fall from grace
Is what makes me human.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2008-07-05 at 15:28
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