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david-hilburnPoems
Tomorrow proves A host of elegant parties Has a wish, alive in the secret of loves Made to order, meant to form curiosity, carries Them Energy in the stir, of avoiding eyes A shrewder mercy, is in the name of pretty, whim Is a clashing world, to finish the pace of response to wry's Echoes of love, in every soul's hand Showing true, the skip of light we need Has come of age, hasn't the sense of an open land But with a cope, beauty is to be the composure we lead... To water, surreality Long before a quiet response is a private eye We found your silence, in the integrity of the rain Where one, is won to wander into that wish, with why... It must of... Sharing is a collected breast, to worth... The courage of others is for a rainbow, to love... Time is a little more ghost, than a seed of birth... Emotions, are like this... But time is a driven mind, to remember a shall for a swallow Of poignancy, in the shadow of an angel that stole bliss With your eyesight, still staring at the right, to leave with a how... Purpose beyond... Here to fare, a quieter answer to the question Let by your stare, in the sit of another drink, with a moment gone Do archaic flies coming and going, remember you so drunk, that hate is in season?
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Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 12:46 PM UTC
The Four Season's (See Food Parties Angelically...)
Tomorrow proves A host of elegant parties Has a wish, alive in the secret of loves Made to order, meant to form curiosity, carries Them Energy in the stir, of avoiding eyes A shrewder mercy, is in the name of pretty, whim Is a clashing world, to finish the pace of response to wry's Echoes of love, in every soul's hand Showing true, the skip of light we need Has come of age, hasn't the sense of an open land But with a cope, beauty is to be the composure we lead... To water, surreality Long before a quiet response is a private eye We found your silence, in the integrity of the rain Where one, is won to wander into that wish, with why... It must of... Sharing is a collected breast, to worth... The courage of others is for a rainbow, to love... Time is a little more ghost, than a seed of birth... Emotions, are like this... But time is a driven mind, to remember a shall for a swallow Of poignancy, in the shadow of an angel that stole bliss With your eyesight, still staring at the right, to leave with a how... Purpose beyond... Here to fare, a quieter answer to the question Let by your stare, in the sit of another drink, with a moment gone Do archaic flies coming and going, remember you so drunk, that hate is in season?
tomorrow can also sneeze...
#parties#sedition#witnessing#purposefulness#drinking
Written by
david-hilburn
56/M/Soldotna, Alaska
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 12:46 PM UTC
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