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Argentine Tango Poems
A Heart So Hollow
Oh how graced I must be to walk the hallowed halls of that thing you call a heart. A cold draft follows me out, for even the air is stale and needs an escape.
I gazed into Melancholy's mirror And found the more I reflected on it, The more it reflected on me Providing a perfect symmetry
The desert is jealous of the clouds. Lonely below their shadow it awaits its one true love - the rain. It thirsts for its presence,
Still, are you here? Still, it is I. Still, you have found me. Shrouded with the weight of your presence,
“Hold on” It rose, separating itself from the world it resented, The heat of anger filling its puffy cheeks. It was downcast and carried a shadow wherever it went,
Dance Of The Pines
It was the eve of the reckoning. The moon shone as a spotlight, Searching every pine for answers. They whispered secrets to the night,
Where Is The Passion? Where Is The Fight...
Where is the passion? Where is the fight? You once had a fire that burned bright through the night
Fifth Avenue At Twilight
Across the moonlit painted skies The lonely windows weep And in their faces candles creep Much to the night's demise
Dead By Morning
I should have known I could never fix your crooked smile. They don't make a Photoshop for ugly souls. You nailed into me thoughts and words at my weakest points, drilled into my fault lines. I shouldn't have given tools
I used to find comfort in silence and solitude, Taking time to allow the stress of the day, The worry and doubt to recede in my mind. But now instead of hiding all thought away
Has Fate Forgotten?
Has fate forgotten? Has that unspoken promise forgotten to shake hands with time? Its perspicacious presence
.....in silence You asked me to watch You self-destruct in silence.....
Comments about Argentine Tango
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A Heart So Hollow
Oh how graced I must be to walk the hallowed halls
of that thing you call a heart.
A cold draft follows me out, for even the air is stale
and needs an escape.
Who knew one could contain so deep a chasm in one's chest.
A canyon for the viewing of passerby.
So hollow, the rhythmic beating resounds in ears miles away.
A drum of warning, come no closer,
for you might fall in. In fact, you may never hit bottom.
A free fall that comes with a price.
How proud you must be, for you are certainly one of a kind.