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Mia Persson Poems
I'll wait for you benighted, And let the cold frosty winter Cover my heart in snow So that what I have here for thee,
Buds In Winter
A lifeless void to the night yet to come My heart, a rose Who's fate is to be picked and die in your palm But should you ever leave it grow
I stand crouched before my grave Eyes sinking in through the earth Soon my life will be taken by a wave And every tide I've swimmed against
Adde in me a sophistic feel for tungsten edged senselessness And do unto me what hath forever abided my time Find in thy spirit an ignition of spitefulness And casteth thy love in this burning heart of mine
Thine eyes doth shine Green colours faded unlike mine Once a moonray now a beam Thine melody, a requiem for a dream.
I was bored, and she was boring too Dysthymia wouldn't leave me I had to eat something, anything happier Than her sobbing on my shoulder
At the cimmerian light of dawn The wind brisk comes In through a window, welcoming a breath One sleeping wakeless, the other awaiting death.
Synthesis of a black veiled soul strolling through the night so cold Passing and stroking a fur of might, rumerous noises of sheer delight Could have been anger or even of fright, a cause to collide daytime with night A furious dazzling point-arched stare of empathy leaving from everywhere.
(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)
I'll wait for you benighted,
And let the cold frosty winter
Cover my heart in snow
So that what I have here for thee,
No one's mind may ever know.