The Bed I Have Made

2 Comments

Tags:
  • Devotion

    The Bed I Have Made
    From deep within the depths of my soul
    I conjure the spirit of passion
    Trembling from the loss of control
    Angered by what I have done
    Hoping only for the light of belonging
    I suffer, desperate and alone
    With no one, and nothing
    Wanting a love of my own
    How long before I wither away
    Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
    A mountain of things to say
    Moving on a definite must
    Yet...still I am weary and afraid
    Still in need of a loving touch
    I will ly in the bed I have made
    And dream of the I miss so much.

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    Stryx commented on The Bed I Have Made

    10-10-2009

    Your poetry I really like - but I like your mind even more. Wonderful
    Reply to Comment

    Quail1957 commented on The Bed I Have Made

    02-12-2009

    We are never really alone if we look inside,the answers are waiting.
    Reply to Comment

    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.

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