by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Saturday, December 06, 2003
Not rated by the Author.
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Lo, the whispering followed night sent black
To gather dreams from subconscious deepened
By shallow aberrations without fact,
Unduly brow beaten, nightmare cheapened
Without fruition of gargoyle wingings;
Proof, once again, ideals are fantasy,
Expounded by angels silent singings
Into the exhalations of angsty
Perditions of a single mind loosely
Beckoning eternity to enslave
Belittled equation of Time’s noose, be-
Longing to all but hoarded by enclave
That sings and wings above heads of brazen
Sorts, not that which composes the craven.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
12/6/03 Copyright 2003 ©
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|Reviewed by ***** ********* (Reader)
|A very intriguing metaphorical and philosophical dance you're doing in this write, Erin, fascinating! I really enjoy this stanza:
"...perditions of a single mind loosely
beckoning eternity to enslave
belittled equation of Time’s noose, be-
longing to all but hoarded by enclave..."
Arresting descriptions! EXCELLENT!
|Reviewed by Kate Clifford
|Great descriptive write!|
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Marvelous metaphor Erin, creative fantasies;-)as some nightmares tend to be...|
|Reviewed by Ron (sketchman) Axelson
|Excellent, but I have to read again...|