AltoettingA Poem by Leslie PhilibertI wasn`t too sure if I should post this, but here you go...A dead saint walking; a standalone crossed cloud sanctified for a black madonna. In hand with a soon-to-be-holy footer with a belt-busting crucifix. Pictures hang like a row of orphans, nearly saved. So circle into the blue; the be-seen race,the block of sunken necks.A church shouting for air. I stand before a locked door and hear voices. They talk about me in a way I do not understand. (How can I move into another day, when I am trapped in glory? God resides in quiet corners)
© 2014 Leslie PhilibertAuthor's Note
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4 Reviews Added on February 12, 2014 Last Updated on February 15, 2014 AuthorLeslie PhilibertBavaria, GermanyAboutI`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..Writing
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