Falcon2001 Posted November 28, 2002 Report Posted November 28, 2002 I - Praise. Dust cakes my face. I trudge through sand dunes As I walk the desert that has become my life's story. My eyes decieve me! An Oasis? Glorious day! The image of a beetle, I scurry toward it. The oasis has hair the color of the setting sun Eyes that flash and glint like jewels Lips as full and red as the morning rose And a heart like a symphony But look at her blinders! Why? How can she not see how beautiful she is And live in shame and torment? But ghosts they cloud my judgement And linger in my past. Love is not for the wicked or dead, The scavengers that pick the bones of the deadened oaks to feed their empty bellies. But what can I do? I have glimpsed perfection, and am smitten. The starry night sky is dull and sere when I compare her to it Would that I could cast her up Amid the stars, spell out her name Then her brightness would light the world And the sun would turn it's head in shame And the moon would look like a lump of coal And hide itself from her glittering gaze If I could build a diamond throne And ornament it with sparkling rubies And shining emeralds and opulent pearls So that when I put her upon the sterling seat All the stones would lose their fire and seem cold When compared to one that couldst outshine the sun And never know how. Cioden Darkeye Quill-Bearer - The Pen is Mightier than the Sword Owner of the Reply Raven - Enemy to all those who never post responses "Oh my God, I'm LEAKING POETRY!"
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