Emily Dickinson
Liberty -- a Woman --
The Truth in her flame, her eyes
Which turn to the horizon.
Never-satis fire -- She sighs
And fills the lungs with ire resolve.
I saw Her crossing --
A path of everyday -- my own --
Treading the steps of being.
An island median -- her dias
She turns her eyes to the fire.
The End
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Do as you please. Comment as you wish. Rate as you wish. Here's a little chance to pay homage to those who stole you into the game of verse...With verse. 3 PARTICIPANTS IN THIS POEM
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My eyes hurt, but that's only because you're good.. This chapter
was posted on Jul 23, 2009 by
Archi_Teuthis.
This is a collaborative poem.
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