douglas Posted April 4, 2014 Share Posted April 4, 2014 The Clock Turns The clock turnsThe cigarette burnsI drift to rain forestsWith thoughts about the demonstratorsAnd thoughts of my past lovers Red strands of tangled loveI see the sunshine fade behind the gradual inclineOf nature's back behind usAnd evening's purple evening dressLying close beside us And are we real and just oneOr is this all untrueI love I hateI cryI singAnd also do love youOh so true and sweetStanding beneath a dead poet's treesStained by portraits of his faceAnd marble busts I am You areAnd so was KeatsMy God I do love your tree But what tree is lifeShall I have a wifeI hear the TV blaringAnd purple jumpsuitsDesigned in the '70'sAnd tender comfort caring Love is custardAnd love is lustAnd lust is unrelentingAnd surreptitious looksInvadeThe companyI'm keeping Quote To receive love, you have to give it... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted April 15, 2014 Share Posted April 15, 2014 -- And evening's purple evening dressLying close beside us -- How lovely! Very Hart Crane. This is an intriguing introspective love poem/self portrait hybrid. (Not sure if that makes any sense, but that's where it takes me, lol.) Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
douglas Posted July 29, 2014 Author Share Posted July 29, 2014 thank you for commenting tony. Quote To receive love, you have to give it... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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