June 12, 2008
What we're made of, and what comes out.
White blankets that obscure, the purple and lines.
And where do we come from?
What are we made of.
Is it strong or weak, small and unsure.
Strong, brittle and thin.
The colors of a nightmare, white nights and red ghosts.
Where do we come from, what are we made of?
Red that twists and grows, what are we made of...
Poison TreePoison Tree6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I was in love with my friend;
I spoke my love, my love did wallow.
I was in love with my foe;
I spoke it not, my heart I swallowed.
And I nurtured it in words,
Rise and set with the birds;
And I lured it with glances,
And slow spoken chances.
And it rose both night and day,
Until it became a glimmering ray.
And my love saw it's light
And he knew that all was right.
And beneath my hanging heart.
When the day had shone the mark.
In the night hoping I see
There my love, waiting for me.
After- A Poison Tree by William Blake