Twisted Dreamer
Read Poems (18)
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Member Since 3rd September 2012
Medusa joined 3863 days ago and last visited 1950 days ago
Comments 61
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Poet Introduction

I am not a poet by any stretch of imagination.words inspire me n sometimes i pen some thoughts n talking to people n to explore minds.m here for inspiration n to meet beautiful you ll have to find out for yourself.

Favorite Poets/Writers

Shelley, Christina Rossetti,J.E. Flecker, Somerset Maugham, Thomas Hardy, D.H. Laurence, Oscar Wilde

About Me

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Stanzas Written in Dejection, near Naples
        The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
        The waves are dancing fast and bright,
     Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
     The purple noon's transparent might,
        The breath of the moist earth is light,
     Around its unexpanded buds;
        Like many a voice of one delight,
     The winds, the birds, the ocean floods,
   The City's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's.

        I see the Deep's untrampled floor
        With green and purple seaweeds strown;
     I see the waves upon the shore,
     Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown:
        I sit upon the sands alone,—
     The lightning of the noontide ocean
        Is flashing round me, and a tone
     Arises from its measured motion,
  How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.

        Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
        Nor peace within nor calm around,
     Nor that content surpassing wealth
     The sage in meditation found,
        And walked with inward glory crowned—
     Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
        Others I see whom these surround—
     Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;
   To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

        Yet now despair itself is mild,
        Even as the winds and waters are;
     I could lie down like a tired child,
     And weep away the life of care
        Which I have borne and yet must bear,
     Till death like sleep might steal on me,
        And I might feel in the warm air
     My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
   Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

        Some might lament that I were cold,
        As I, when this sweet day is gone,
     Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
     Insults with this untimely moan;
        They might lament—for I am one
     Whom men love not,—and yet regret,
        Unlike this day, which, when the sun
        Shall on its stainless glory set,
  Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.

My Reading List

Full Reading List
Cynic by Indie (Miss Indie)
darkness is a the loneliest hour by Indie (Miss Indie)
shadows of poetry by Indie (Miss Indie)
The mannequins are misogynists by Indie (Miss Indie)
                  Here lies no lies by sabbath (William Albert Cole)

Poets I Follow