Sunday, August 01, 2010

Sunday Poetry: Dylan Thomas

Twenty Four Years

Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun,
With my red veins full of money,
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance as long as forever is.

--Dylan Thomas


Anonymous agenzia hostess Verona said...

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Anonymous toronto painting said...

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Anonymous Pearl Malta said...

Nice poem..I like it

1:34 AM  

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