Wednesday, October 22, 2003SLAMMIN'
This morn's slam poems by Edgar Allan Poe:
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
.........from Dream Within a Dream
Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons there wax and wane-
Again- again- again-
Every moment of the night-
Forever changing places-
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
For more fun poetry go to OldPoetry.com.
~emily - 9:16 AM~