fiddling with words had become a habit
before I knew it my mind was a rabbit
reproducing those rhyming lines
because my heart for beauty pines
so..
I'm tapping the keys till the night grows old
spinning ideas that are foolish or bold
it matters not because you see
I'm under the spell of poesie...
~Frances is currently conducting her magnificent life on the western shores of Terra Australis~
Poems by this author | Date | Views |
---|---|---|
The Duties of Birds |
12/12/16 | 90 |
Occupation |
11/10/15 | 249 |
accounting for love |
29/06/15 | 265 |
Awakening Us |
05/04/15 | 334 |
My Valentine.. every shade but gray. |
15/02/15 | 251 |
Tangible Would That You Were |
21/07/14 | 744 |
MINERAL |
27/05/14 | 662 |
Perhaps |
10/05/14 | 439 |
Perfect Flower |
12/04/14 | 728 |
Librarian |
12/04/14 | 688 |
darling |
15/02/14 | 582 |
The Desperation of Them |
25/11/13 | 423 |
Things Burn |
25/11/13 | 599 |
zeds |
03/10/13 | 602 |
Falling Again |
16/09/13 | 847 |
Feathering |
17/08/13 | 753 |
Chiseled Feathers |
17/08/13 | 388 |
Catch me in the morning.. |
17/08/13 | 396 |
Mr Hardy In the Mist |
04/06/13 | 1200 |
POETRY! ..yes it is |
01/04/13 | 974 |