I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
'Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole.
In the morning, glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
- A Poison Tree, William Blake
Alone
Always lob over now's eternity.
Although, lookers often never enjoy.
Another lacking overlord nestles eves.
All lovers only need enough.
Away like owl's night epithet.
A loony ode never ends.
And lips ought nevermore entice.
uttered by a mistaken mind
@
9:04 PM
4
thoughts
4 Thoughts:
We have a bunch of poets. lookers dont enjoy because you need to interact to be in the real world.
Note: I wanted to try something different and new. Notice the first letter of each word and that might help you understand the style.
I love the way your mind works sometimes.
Nice work Justin, I like the style you were trying. It works.
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