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Há 3 dias · A stem cementing, wrestled up the tower, Rose maid and male, Or, master venus, through the paddler's bowl. Sailed up the sun; Who is my grief, A chrysalis unwrinkling on the iron, Wrenched by my fingerman, the leaden bud. Shot through the leaf, Was who was folded on the rod the aaron.
Há 5 dias · Clown In The Moon. My tears are like the quiet drift. Of petals from some magic rose; And all my grief flows from the rift. Of unremembered skies and snows. I think, that if I touched the earth, It would crumble; It is so sad and beautiful, So tremulously like a dream.
Há 3 dias · In spring we cross our foreheads with the holly, Heigh ho the blood and berry, And nail the merry squires to the trees; Here love's damp muscle dries and dies, Here break a kiss in no love's quarry. O see the poles of promise in the boys. III. I see the boys of summer in their ruin. Man in his maggot's barren.
Há 3 dias · På 1950-talet var Dylan Thomas poesins superkändis. Trots att han bara blev 39 år hann den walesiska poeten göra stort avtryck i världen och inspirera såväl Tomas Tranströmer som Bob Dylan ...
Há 3 dias · Before I rush in a crouch the ghost with a hammer, air, Strike light, and bloody a loud room. 'If my bunched, monkey coming is cruel. Rage me back to the making house. My hand unravel. When you sew the deep door. The bed is a cross place. Bend, if my journey ache, direction like an arc or make.
Há 5 dias · For there are ghosts in the air. And ghostly echoes on paper, And the thunder of calls and notes. I have longed to move away but am afraid; Some life, yet unspent, might explode. Out of the old lie burning on the ground, And, crackling into the air, leave me half- blind. Neither by night 's ancient fear,
Há 1 dia · Alignment By Dylan ThomasMy name is Dylan Thomas. I write poetry about mental health, inner-child healing, addiction/recovery, unconditional love, and manife...
