The Crow
There is a crow
Thinking what I know
Just sitting there
With a shameless stare
There is a crow
Young, yet so old
Feathers a midnight black
With claws sharp as a tack
There is a crow
Who can be a foe
He is very witty
Yet, can feel pity
There is a crow
With a bottomless soul
Who looks so alarming
Yet, can be charming
There is a crow
Whose stories I've told
Who is so destructive
But can be seductive
There is a crow
That I want to show
Who can give love
And is gentle as a dove
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.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Wolf-Man | 0 | 01/30/2010 |
| The Crow | 0 | 11/09/2009 |
| Sonnet | 0 | 03/03/2009 |
| Walking Through Memory Lane | 0 | 03/03/2009 |
| One Last Time | 1 | 03/03/2009 |
| Untitled #2 | 0 | 03/03/2009 |
| Untitled | 0 | 03/03/2009 |
| The Rain | 1 | 03/03/2009 |
| Everything Zen | 0 | 03/03/2009 |
| A Panic-Filled Night | 0 | 03/03/2009 |
| Alone | 1 | 03/03/2009 |
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