If *“poetry keeps longing alive” Then the art form will live forever There are those who will always Long for something more: Than the tent in the desert The humble chapel in the mountains The manger in the cold The dread of the day Beyond the dawn I am one Of those Longing for the Sweet, semi-comatose Of the forbidden dream Where warmth Prohibits reality Of a world Run amok, chaotic Where the gifts of The wise are dashed Upon the altars of madness Turned away From a manger empty Of hope I long For something More *Robert Bly 0.000000 0.000000 Share this:ShareFacebookWhatsAppEmailRedditLike this:Like Loading... Related Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (required) (Address never made public) Name (required) Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email. Notify me of new posts via email. Δ Post navigation Previous Previous post: This World Is Not Conclusion (Honoring the Poetry of Others)Next Next post: Heart’s in Exile
Leave a Reply