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Tales of ConstantsShow poetry

I write what I know and how it relaties to what I see. As days pass before me, I cannot help but curse God and bless my brother, then reverse the order  of nouns and verbs untill I am lost. Then, as Coleridge put it, I find my way through a poesy.  Certain forms draw out the beauty and strength in words and the english language as a whole. I try to find them and peace together what will become my voice, if ever it is deserving title. I read to ease living pains, and each verse is disected and searched for meaning and purpose. Many people attempt to build towers out of Gold. Gold is weak, and their structures crumble at their feet: I rumage through the remains and pick out the Gold nuggets.

My Poetry

1 - 4 of 4

  • This afternoon, along the breaking crests,
    23 lines, August 1, 2006. In Society
  • She rests herself on subtle earth
    from where she gained her common birth.
    20 lines, 6 comments, July 31, 2006. In Other
  • I find it odd how often I lie down
    Drowned in aches flooding through my thoughts
    22 lines, July 31, 2006. In Nature
  • You spoke a word so softly slight
    Sweet ache released to sorrowed night
    30 lines, 1 comment, July 31, 2006. In Spiritual

Visitor Book

1 - 1 of 1
  • M.A.King on August 2, 2006
    I thank you for the sonnet you left to shine as comment on my own. What a jewel! You filled my morning with peace.

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