Title divine—is mine! The Wife—without the Sign! Acute Degree—conferred on me— Empress of Calvary! Royal—all but the Crown! Betrothed—without the swoon God sends us Women— When you—hold—Garnet to Garnet— Gold—to Gold— Born—Bridalled—Shrouded— In a Day— Tri Victory “My Husband”—women say— Stroking the Melody— Is this—the way?
I poured a cup of sadness Stirred with angers spoon Called to the four winds of the heaven Bowed low the crescent moon
For sweetness sake I happily added A generous measure of pain Mixed in cream pale and weak Colored with the tears of rain
On a crystal flaming platter Served carefully by the hand of guile I watched the orange blue fire demons Contented and smiling Passed the while
So it was I spoke the curse For what was given to me Was returned in kind Unending loneliness of the soul The nightmares of a troubled mind
Some would say My revenge was too great Others will berate me in my death But let it be said I showed no mercy Only to God must I pay the debt
So have a cup of sadness Drink until you are no more For with intent I speak these words Accompanied by malice and scorn.
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Dec. 13, 2014
Here she lies, a pretty bud, Lately made of flesh and blood: Who as soon fell fast asleep As her little eyes did peep. Give her strewings, but not stir The earth that lightly covers her.
All the while, all the ****** while, she stood there, waiting for me to unlock the gate in the wall But I was the fool, you see, to think I held the key For all the while, the prisoner was me, not she