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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:04:18 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 172326
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Which is the World
[time] => 2012-05-03 02:15:37
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Which is the world? My mirror Of love shaken in the sky, Since the first dawn of birds To the powerless voice, And the interrupted child. Alone in this spell will blow The heart in the walking dark Of reconstructing birth, Which time and senses grow, To the invasion of choice. And who then, among myselves, Bloomer of a late contagion, Departing a cross’ love; Will burn entirely To ends of their opened wings? In this confinement of yearns, The memory stings like a joy, And though it gathers love, From the leaves of fallen years, Its bliss remains a prayerpiece. * Who stands in my way? Love’s trade Shoots uneatable pleasures In the marveling dark Of the growling belly, Where desire is measured. Through trade of silence I may Provide from their salt my bread, But only if tears mark The burning in man’s praise, Through the indefinite body. It can not touch the ground, Or celebrate the bright skin; It emotes the wild stream, Of lovers’ flesh beating At night; but nor will it ring. Only the bells of the maker. Shall I choose or wake to drown This other safe extreme, I’ll die, and my mirror Of fear turns to the breathing. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 154 [topic] => 61 [informant] => Gladakkers [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles )
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