Soup Friends...
I thought I would share what my daughter send me this morning. She has poetry on here but doesn't come on much anymore.
Sara
Ralph Waldo Emerson
April winds are magical
and thrill our tuneful frames.
The garden-walks are passional
To bachelors and dames.
My(Doris' poem) counter poem for the allergic and arthritic persons.
April winds are nemesis
and chill our achy frames.
Garden walks become treacherous
to aged and their flames.
Love,
Doris
Categories:
passional, age, pain,
Form: Rhyme
Which mortal soul cannot comprehend
The Deliciousness of bodily paradise
Moisture filled, blood of melodious incarnation
Passional insinuations, not state of grace
Mouth savour distaste an ashamed assumption
Transfuse her fire, absorbed in ravines
Faithful souls, captivity relinquished
Split fruit pours forth; judgemental devotion
Torments unheard, Possession, Desire
Beauty and love; Transparent Impotence
Smouldering a true Illuminated repentance
Points of sin against the embroidered sky
Representing restrained conscientiousness
Chasing the night; Barren pleasures
Cleansing the day; Purest soul soars
Cloud of thoughts; Whites of innocence
Suffers sin for pleasure; Attend to thee
Up; Ravished vaulted space; Faith; Eternity
Awaiting, their next disgrace!
Categories:
passional, bereavement, destiny, devotion, faith,
Form: Elegy