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Array
(
[sid] => 152758
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => For Coleridge, The Wraith.
[time] => 2009-08-31 16:17:56
[hometext] => sometimes writing takes a life of its own - even when its about death, and I just mediate.
[bodytext] => For Coleridge, The Wraith. The courage of suggestion Is in the poets faith, The myriad laws of perception. The painted idol half way upon the idle ocean, Is an object of wonder & worthy of devotion. A lovely little child, she in her white elfin dance Winding her ways between mist & frost, Taste the perfume of your idol, As she floats thus, she'll offer you a kiss & in that mist your lost. & her dancing like death, like love Shall be slow & ecstatic. Surrender to times passing Rythmic, pulse & beat In the natural earth electric. Lie down with the child shes death the idol, Oh beautiful body Head skull of naked bone. In the rounded, rythmic earth Lie down & atone. Such soft skin of Such alabaster hue Lie down with death She'll be gentle with you. She child will embrace you. Her eyes shall fix your stare. Through her running fingers She'll leave streaks in your hair. She'll breathe slow & sweetly, Carressing obliquly As accepting, you lie there, Knowing all eternity with her. Dance with her Give her all your secrets keep her embraced long and close In your caress. She is that your love courageously expressess Death returns such love, with the gentleness of her kisses. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 185 [topic] => 64 [informant] => incognito_bombastus [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )
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