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Date Posted: 15:12:38 08/07/05 Sun
Author: Raphaela
Author Host/IP: dsl-80-45-197-187.access.as9105.com / 80.45.197.187
Subject: Re: The Solidarity
In reply to: AGS 's message, "The Solidarity" on 20:16:49 08/04/05 Thu

Good to read you again Al, your poetry has its own distinctive style and a dreamlike quality.

Must catch up soon.

R


>Tear me, ever; O' Lady, so
>gently, among fevered and softened heights
>
>wondering
>tethered
>
>this weave bears
>crisp arrogant chills, sift
>harsh airs
>so
>intrinsically, by wet streams of
>music
>
>played, that shall
>
>field
>always, the grandest
>sparks, loose
>upon fragile lingering sights
>of the fallen
>waters
>
>clear it makes none
>of its distinguishing marks;
>the blaring of so
>far a range
>
>In endless succession the heighten'd mountains do
>looms - offer tranquilities
>in her
>weaves
>(alas) too
>by the endless circumference of
>the furthest seen valley
>a churn lit
>as bright
>as a tossed sun -
>light
>
>perceptions of
>the scattering of
>waves; frugal, larks
>in soft flying
>as
>a
>winds by
>salted seashore
>grown, ever in its diced --
>
>majestic,
>
>winds of flight
>
>and winds, in the highlands to be
>always
>
>sheered
>respected, hear'd, readily dismissed
>
>a bliss of circumference
>wild
>hidden
>
>meaningless; but
>to
>you
>
>like slim fallen wax-
>es of burnt sifted candles:
>
>deceived ever;
>that line the row
>of drifted raw spirals of ranges, of
>
>heighted mountains:
>
>fire traced, that will mention
>her own sight of trances
>
>An elegance in touch; the skill belonged
>a tongue without speech
>floated
>the traces of harbors by groves
>meandering through high cliffs
>in wondering, the back
>of the winding sun
>
>forefront, flat, skies, disguise
>pocked ever
>as alleys or cobs -
>
>a tender bee is watching hears
>
>rudiments; the hearts fears; so beside
>another, set wandering eyes
>and a bees song
>
>to;
>
>climb heavens skies
>
>That must -
>
>know no clouded sight
>weave, save
>structure by the lying fern
>
>a head, an earn
>and colored, dabbed
>away; it must
>turn
>
>Hence, the wonder
>of another
>day, in
>
>wandering song
>
>Slims the travails line
>captured inside,
>
>the halls glow, so often yellow
>as fishes, winded starken caves
>of a sea
>
>bent on keeping;
>the quaint deal they have made
>and of course, the walls don't listen
>nor
>rocks inside -
>
>that weaves too
>of a seas striation
>
>Who dwells, so much near
>furlongs, roads, maps
>
>atlas
>
>Her sleek traps now by mud's
>relief's aching,
>
>and the moon soft overhead,
>to cast an oft bewildered shadow
>
>The wires her dread
>never told
>
>nor any; just
>the winds of sky's
>
>environment gone; as she
>
>has taken the wind
>that has gone alone
>with her

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