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Sep 28, 2009
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LaTour's lament
Sitting on a wooden chair, a tomb snubbed
only by the glass flame's rich host glow, white
cotton drape dropped from a shoulder half nude
where evening's combed hair rests muted and shy
Out of bed, sleepless to a certain plan
The skull on her lap, her right hand reclines
its' temple, the left holds mind's heavy sign,
regarding grave calm by the table side
A noose, cross, two testaments overused
The bubbling banter of a child to come
What world does it belong, where introduced
from your sound hearth, to its' predestined bone
In this room an emotion old as flame
bearing witness why we sing to our dead
— doorman, Sep 28, 2009
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Critiques
ziggy
16 years 8 months ago
latour`s lament
doorman
16 years 8 months ago
Thank you
lyz
16 years 8 months ago
Hello Stranger
doorman
16 years 8 months ago
What a warm welcome,
Seren
16 years 8 months ago
Dear Espen
doorman
16 years 8 months ago
Nice to see you again,
Ravenshakti
16 years 8 months ago
Hello there Espen...
doorman
16 years 8 months ago
Dear Raven,I’m very
Cloudthings
16 years 8 months ago
More, more, more Norwegian alchemist
Cloudthings
16 years 8 months ago
OOoops forgot the
doorman
16 years 8 months ago
Dear Anni
Bonitaj
16 years 8 months ago
Espen!
doorman
16 years 8 months ago
Dear Boni