contemplation (Remove filter)
From doors of despair to my dear almighty
Make a painting with sweats,
And resins from plants ;sweets,
Bitters and thoughtful meets
To form its themes,
Weaved lining of lines,
Hardly the Magnum opus; it might,
But to feed it's beauty to flames,
Just to escape cold,
And warm hands!
Am I a meaningful painting
Or just a plaything
Lying like a firewood
With no good,
Isn't it you behind this, o almighty...
Wednesday 30th October 2024 11:02 am
Recent Comments
Graham Sherwood on I Hear Nothing
5 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Stoic Man
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Mothers of Sons (Twenty years wasted to abandonment)
8 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on The Westgate Run (Re-run) [song version]
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on A Knight's Resilience
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I CAN'T CARE FUCKING LESS
9 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on "Forged in Fire, Taught in Halls"
10 hours ago
Sourajit Nandi on "Forged in Fire, Taught in Halls"
16 hours ago
Holden Moncrieff on Rosary.
22 hours ago
TobaniNataiella on Are The Angels Watching Over Me Tonight
22 hours ago