You need new skin
something to get into...
Somewhere you can gaze
This Is all wrong somehow,
or doesn't fit?
And they keep
with their arms
filled with poems,
away picking them...
Leave them over there,
God I need to burn
much more than i thought,
This is not even the tip
of a tongue,
that exposed itself
to that awe in language,
Where is the nude Fire,
of poets blazing now?
I don't know how to come
clean, my thought seems unreal,
Can I have your skin?
It's young and fresh,
like a new born daisy!
Your just eh! a bit mad?
I would gladly wear you,
With the courage to cast
a hook into the very
depth of your mind,
But most carefully...
GRANT FRASER's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Becoming... by GRANT FRASER )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
- Gordon D Wilkinson
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 December 1797 – 15 February 1869)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 March 1934 – 31 May 2009)
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