Constance La France Poet Verse

Of Weeping Dreams

 
I hung my verses in the wind,
time and tide their faults may find . . . 

 . . . . . Ralph Waldo Emerson, Poet

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As my eyes drop,
I look into my weeping heart, 
and send words adrift in time and tide.

I, a ship that through,
the ocean glides,
seeking a secret star to guide the way.

The storms of life,
has shadowed my journey,
off course, roaming, far adrift and lost.

I float in darkness,
and hidden are the perils,
my aching tears become part of the mist.

Yet, I still have hope,
that life will be bright again,
with lovely lights instead of deep grief.

My verses floating,
my words a secret trembling,
with only time and tide as their destiny.


"Fool!" said my Muse to me,
"look into your heart and write!"

. . . . .Sir Philip Sidney, Poet

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July 9, 2013


Poetry/Verse/Of Weeping Dreams
Copyright Protected, ID 07-491-360-09
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France

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Skat A August 9, 2013 at 7:34 PM congratulations............SKAT

Poet Destroyer A August 8, 2013 at 9:39 PM Broken, enjoyed your late night poem. CONGRATULATIONS!!! :-) :-) :-) in Nathan's contest... Always Linda

Nathan D. August 8, 2013 at 8:25 PM awesome Nate

Jack Horne July 9, 2013 at 2:58 PM I know Sidney but will have to check out Waldo Emerson. beautiful write indeed, my friend

Kash Poet July 9, 2013 at 11:27 AM A touching write here Constance.Beautiful poem.

Poet Destroyer A July 9, 2013 at 8:51 AM something of a short story that flows as the ocean into my thoughts, such calmness comes into this write, enjoyed this one, and good luck on the contest, have a blessed day,, ~always, p.d.

Russell Sivey July 9, 2013 at 7:53 AM This is a wonderful and enlightening write my friend! I truly loved reading this amazing poem this morning! I enjoyed in particular this line, "my aching tears become part of the mist," where you painted a brilliant picture of the tears being enveloped by the mist itself! What a tremendous piece, Great Work!!

Constance La France July 9, 2013 at 7:17 AM He sits above the clang and dust of Time, with the worlds secret trembling on his lips . . . " William Watson, Poet, referring to his Muse