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Stranger Lost

by Walter Jones (Age: 72)
copyright 09-16-2008


Age Rating: 16 +


Tale of ready kept in souls watching earth come to view cherish and hold
Oh pass me in a crypt of sawdust and gold


Deep was the quest of old friend Poe
Sea dreaming in tomb brought in vengeance
Sleep is a pale ride in chair meant for resting
Flee in tribune for angelís statue stand-alone in a cage
Swell of torrent living in marble seeking beauty carved
Height of time rings in towers of watch waiting voices screaming
Light branches across reef of markers dissolute sanctions reasons unknown

Cell marks happy voices feeling song
Hell moves past souls to anger waiting
Drain of acceptance pushes each to hope
Rain-washes faces left cold in seclusion held
Shore weak of sand clay pulling fate forward hard
Poor leading so much more than need and want grieve
Urn holds tests of manner and ghosts upon a dark shadows
Burn so hard upon wish left colder than time itself failing to need

Prow cast lonely on kiss
Bow alone fails to rescue
Grief the burden left on her apron
Leaf crumbles from feet lost in thought
Air stale in whisper so hurt by eyes peeking past
Fair takes a restitute upon a hail of words keeping place
Deep in a walk upon a stranded place want wanders free
Keep all dreamers in a pocket of stardust failing to glow a drop

Be a last watch of growth felt
Gain stops in amber seeking fire
Lent of ash and sack leave willing
Sent a passion drive behind mind and time
Haste to dire beneath rocks grind on biblical
Waste shed to ground burning faster than thought
Met sudden death on a ridge above love keeping heart
Set is taking more than leaving a wit trust on beer stained


Tale of ready kept in souls watching earth come to view cherish and hold
Oh pass me in a crypt of sawdust and gold

She reached for me in an hour of need and I cast my heart at her feet
Each breath I take is from heaven left for someone
Now and forever I leave pieces of words to guide me
Always on the return I let her see it is only me
Hiding in the portals of her mind






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        09-17-2008     Raja Sharma        

Shore weak of sand clay pulling fate forward hard
Poor leading so much more than need and want grieve

Sometimes you become so subtle that your lines are immensely effective, meaningful, delighting, and enlightening, but at the same time very hard to explain to others.
Yes, you have presented this worldly show from your vantage point where you can see and feel all but you can only be a part of it.And it's a pity!
Lines will be remembered and songs will be sung and praise will be showered and names will be written but the point is whether there will be a creature called human being in future.
I am deeply moved by your poem and three cheers to it.
God bless you
Rajasir

        09-17-2008     Frank Fields        

Someday, one day, the books will open, the scales will tell the tale, the balance will be found, the loss and grief forgot, the final lines will be penned, "He was a man."

Frank :)



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