To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Angel Your bodiless trailing In the smoke from your cigarette, Your bearing, your bearing: Something extra is given To carry God's purposes To man. She guards the gate. The Holy Ghost wants her, The shepherds crowd her door, While I, in the desert, watch something distant, Which language makes a star. Tyger, Tyger burning bright, I follow your white footprints Through the night, To where it all begins, Or is it ends? Again. Again. Again? |
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!