Insomnia Blurb
There are no tales
Just stories
All in a whirl
With only a few snippets
Never in full length
Memory can hold
Simply because
These are stories
Captured while in topsy-turvy turns
And half-awake winks
While the room
Shifts its wash
From dark to light
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Insomnia Blurb | 0 | 08/12/2009 |
| Nightmares | 0 | 08/12/2009 |
| For Toil | 0 | 08/12/2009 |
| Wild Winds | 0 | 08/12/2009 |
| Baclaran's Call | 0 | 08/12/2009 |
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