T'was the day of the bleeding drops,
And the blood red waning moon.
Hereto this plane I held my dare
Nay ,mayhap to this Mayfair.
Dost thou entwine a derelict sashay?
A semblance hereto passeth my way.
A breath divine of wondrous creed!
Of baked bread and twined up mead.
And O for a thousand suns to rue,
bemoan the great vast open aisle.
The great panache of Lover's dais,
Behold! a potpourri of poignant craze
Lo and avast dreary molten nigh,
Breaketh not,no rhythm nor rhyme
Hearest Nay a belle windsong cry,
Ride thou forth forsaken rime.
Ride thou forth forsaken rime..
.
ESTÁ A LER
Glimpses of my muse
PoesiaIf I could hold your thoughts sway for a moment and let your eyes see what my muse talks like - all gibberish that seems to make some sense.atleast to a hopeful me... This is kind of what I have to deal with ... hey just read it ma cherie, mon ami...
