My effort to prove Fog wrong. Love poems continue to be written, and Romanticism, in some form, persists.
Has made me undulate. I rise
Out of my wicker home, my eyes,
Supposed to hypnotize, instead
Cannot break free of her. She smiles,
And I smile back. She laughs,
And I become convinced that
Even one who hides in wicker,
Vicious viper others, rightly fearing
They'll be victims, shun, may
Find himself becoming happy
As he undulates.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 22 times
Written on 2011-10-26 at 23:30
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Charmed
She, without a turban or a horn,Has made me undulate. I rise
Out of my wicker home, my eyes,
Supposed to hypnotize, instead
Cannot break free of her. She smiles,
And I smile back. She laughs,
And I become convinced that
Even one who hides in wicker,
Vicious viper others, rightly fearing
They'll be victims, shun, may
Find himself becoming happy
As he undulates.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 22 times
Written on 2011-10-26 at 23:30
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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