by Keith D Allison

What poets quill has not dipped into the well
To bring forth ink languishing in pine
Of the quaking pain that burns inside
Of the sensual night or the morning, laced in sun bright
Of precious of oils and myrrh
To fill the longing for the eternal skies


Posted on 03/06/2006
Copyright © 2024 Keith D Allison

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/08/06 at 01:00 PM

Yes, as I said in my e-mail, excellent buildup to that last beautiful line. A truly spiritually moving poem.

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