The Calling

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    The Calling

    Many a dreams pass at night
    muffled voices that plead;
    silent hopes for tomorrow,
    should the morrow come.
    There are the soft whispers
    that echo in my ears
    a longing, a cry
    for yet another day.
    As dawn draws near
    and the rays soon peep
    i awake from deep slumber
    and tell my heart to be still.

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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.

    riskoffret’s Poems (7)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    The Life -7
    In Vain 0
    The Calling 0
    Too Much Alcohol 0
    AN EPISODE 0
    Scribbles 0
    That Moment 0