She'll make me work in this, she will, With knuckles blue and crusted lips, She'll make me toil and bend, And hack at roots and thorns and barbed canes, Who strengthen fast to come again
Like an amphitheatre are your petals red and round; like the mouth of a spectator going ‘Wow!’; opening your curtain of bright petals you astound;
What a heavenly bliss is the sweet beauty of a rose; just like kisses within kisses are its petals row on row; beautiful concentric circles of curling, silken, scarlet flame;
She had a half completed tattoo of a rose on her cheek which was red raw.
I close my eyes and the lake comes to mind: Its silver hue, flat expanse extends onward, Into what seems an eternal; yet is refined, By thick mists sweeping, rolling now forward,
Many philosophies, only one where God himself stepped into history; many killings, but only one immortal person died, a mystery; many injustices, but only One sinless, suffered crucifixion,
dear Mr. maniacally-raving-mad- repugnican- representative Daugaard, if a kid in your school has a gun & your teacher has a gun, and the teacher fires first, or the kid fires first &
I couldn’t hold you in my Coastal waters When the Ocean tugged at your heart
An evil one.. Not to go with soft refered as despotic rules are just. Nothing quite defected if nothing softly despotic.
The wild nights bring the clearest thoughts And I wake up with a start as I recall the box I threw away as I emptied out your shed
where tales and sly pussycats await a scratching under furry-chins children expecting tousled heads
Beyond life P K Routray Horizon beyond the ocean is neither the end of horizon nor the end of the ocean but the limit of the human imagination. Similarly the death is not the end of the a soul