eclipse Posted March 7, 2014 Share Posted March 7, 2014 Shelley do your ghosts in multitude move across Clouds to stroke lightning? ; Crowd waters pushing tides. Thoughts surmise about dreams that will only pass but never arrive at the eyes to bring flames to the eyes of an obsessive fixed On a portrait. From a page a skylark Delivers dreams to borders of vexed Vision. Does Shelley discern in the dark His visage on a bedroom wall? . Pages are Ripped from a book by a dreamer. Bysshe’s Bird hooks scattered selves-waking to bare Shelves, bound selves, poet’s eyes close- roses blindfolded flash Their form briefly without thorns. The facial Symmetry is torn, eyes turn to wishing wells. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted March 7, 2014 Share Posted March 7, 2014 Symmetry is torn, eyes turn to wishing wells. Much to enjoy. but particularly liked that. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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