the poetry I love



to live as they write

to live and write

as the poets

 

my eyes moisten

and quiver within that perception

 

it is not here

in this fettered form

 

these suggestive bonds

these incessant and feeble fantasies

they stumble over one another

not unlike the liars

who profess faith

only to cover their bias

 

oh! to be robed with the stars of night

from the silver heights of simplicity

 

to glimpse at the glittering

everywhere bright


light rises across my eye

like live sparks

a distant rivalling of Paradise


there I see surfacing

among the fiery images

 

that time is illusory

these truths stay with me in my dream

 

dreams molded by the poetry I love

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