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I see my love In a mirror darkly,
by Rossetti
30 lines, 5 comments,
on Mar 14 2:28 AM. In Love
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Should time cause one of us to forget our love, While one of us remembers still,
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She came to me today. A friend?
by Rossetti
32 lines, 3 comments,
on Mar 14 2:20 AM. In Love
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The rain of my late spring set eerily In on this warmly fecund afternoon,
by Rossetti
21 lines, 2 comments,
on Mar 2 11:01 PM. In Love
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The note came one day in the mail. It was addressed carefully, ink dark blue.
by Rossetti
15 lines, 1 comment,
on Mar 2 10:57 PM
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Winter weak sun struggles through my window. Dust mites dance in the single beam of warmth
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My words meander across the page. Diversions, revisions and reversions
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This is an old poem; however, given the devastating bush fires that have gripped my state of Victoria this week, I thought it appropriate t
by Rossetti
25 lines, 1 comment,
on Feb 11 10:32 PM. In Life
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She lies in her bed, Frail fingers ineffectually
by Rossetti
58 lines, 1 comment,
on Feb 11 10:25 PM. In Life
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by Rossetti
18 lines, 2 comments,
on Feb 11 9:59 PM
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Still, early summer heat sat languidly
Upon my slumbering garden of dreams.
by Rossetti
18 lines, 5 comments,
on Sep 3 10:45 PM 2007
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The Last Shallows Of Summer
I remember the day when we were lovers
by Rossetti
73 lines, 6 comments,
on Aug 28 11:22 PM 2007. In Love
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The ghost of my ever present
Past prances and dances unendingly
by Rossetti
24 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 14 10:19 PM 2007. In Angst
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She remembers the first time she saw him,
Sitting at a table in the library.
by Rossetti
27 lines, 3 comments,
on Aug 14 12:03 AM 2007
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They sat apart on the salt peeling bench,
Huddled tightly into their spray damp coats,
by Rossetti
33 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 13 11:53 PM 2007. In Love
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The dark rose, thickening fear filled
The tribes of Africa. Black, white,
by Rossetti
57 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 7 11:18 PM 2007
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Isolated in a dreary adult
Boarding house world, the child would sit watching
by Rossetti
72 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 7 11:13 PM 2007
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You see me here, always the perfect spy,
Carefully playing the game. Moscow Rules.
by Rossetti
14 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 7 10:36 PM 2007
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Heavy air hangs limp against my window
Of the night, a shroud embracing darkly
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I have picked my way carefully
'Cross my gibber plain* of frailty,
by Rossetti
41 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 5 11:37 PM 2007. In Angst
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Quietly still, alone, I stand
In an open field, clinging still
by Rossetti
33 lines, 4 comments,
on Aug 5 11:29 PM 2007. In Love
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The telephone ringing tremulously
Shattered, temporarily, my musing
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I read your fractured verse, your bitter pain,
Cankerously bleeding, corrupting love
by Rossetti
14 lines, 1 comment,
on Aug 3 6:04 AM 2007
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I walked onto the moor, the mist and stone
Walls clasping me close. My reality
by Rossetti
18 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 3 6:00 AM 2007
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Isolated, alone, out of kilter
With the schoolyard world of competition,
by Rossetti
37 lines, 2 comments,
on Aug 2 4:48 AM 2007. In Love
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With apologies to Robert Browning
by Rossetti
31 lines, 4 comments,
on Aug 2 4:44 AM 2007. In Love
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I sat, duty bound, listening / Dully to the parson's droning / Voice, whilst children shuffled restless / Under the watchful eyes of those / Enforcers of conformity. / Idly flicking through the Bible, / I ca
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My lazy holiday morning routine / Was suddenly disturbed by the rifle / Crack of the tree shattering, breaking clean / In two. It hovered momentarily / While I watched, cursing petulantly. / The tree
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Television flickering black and white / Confronting me. An image of the past, / Ashen. Dust, consumed in the anthracite / Flame. Grey waver
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I used to sit absorbed, a book cuddled / Into my lap, weaving my romantic web. / A tide of childhood images - dappled. / A collage of imaginings. The ebb / Of whispered parental conversations / And flow of
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She came to me silently in the night / Took my hand, roused me from sleep and gently / Led me to the waterfall of delight, / Tumbling from the spring of life, temptingly. / We stood together, close but not touchi
by Rossetti
13 lines, 3 comments,
on Jul 18 2:03 AM 2007
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Always meticulous, we poets craft words, / Phrases, images, rhymes, forever searching / For truth and beauty, countering absurd / Reality, bent upon denying / The perfect truth of imagination. / I watch swallow
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I have always adored Dusty Springfield. / I see her now, still, as I did back then, / At seventeen, sitting in the darkened / Hall watching her, fragile, circled by light, / Words, ordinarily trite, exploding / Like
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