Pines sap

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  • Love

    Pines sap

    if needles be but needles on pines,

    chiseled muscles taut skin shines

    with warmth to the dimpled touch it tenses

    compacts extends the passions returns

    all expressions with equal magnanitude

    the earth shakes moves of same countenance

    supplied delivered, candlelights impresarios

    compensanced, teetering on daylight dusk dawn

    midnights perchanced, to conjure lights blinking

    thoughts loosened,love released unraveled

    solace to minds content peace languid skin

    enamored, forevered clasped , enraptured in sap

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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    DennisterM’s Poems (13)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Orange curtains 0
    Pines sap 0
    American 0
    Grimhilde 0
    Western 0
    Sweat 1
    Mists 0
    Separation 1
    Deadened 0
    Horizons 0
    Inner 0
    Awake 1
    Soldier 0