anthropos

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  • Nature

    anthropos
    velvet texture beauty of saphire
    transcends elusitates desire
    entices reason into fire

    treasures are kept in a naked crust
    signals are passed with mellow trust
    tromendous thoughts turn into dust

    in simple rythum throbs
    feelings of life robs
    doors opens without knobs

    the first wonder is in part
    even though the last to start
    a mesmerising piece of art

    extrimities employed to endure
    remedies from herbs to cure
    galaxies ready to lure

    for only time is the beast
    to swollow and digest the yeast
    and mire the magic feast

    from toe to knee to womans breast
    warmly remains in a nest
    surviving above the rest

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    lefteris’s Poems (22)

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    #114 0 12/17/2008
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    # 141 1 12/04/2008
    #87 #89 0 12/03/2008
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    anthropos 1 12/03/2008
    #112 1 11/27/2008
    #124 2 11/27/2008
    #131 2 11/27/2008
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