Is It Poetry
I have laid with some fine woman
Never having tasted the grape
I've made wine?
It's been seven long years
I still fight
the good fight for my only daughter.
My sight it now starts to grow dim
not yet blind.
Through tomorrow, today I still know.
Some what less frequently.
Only through stress
and only through stress did I know.
That the way to my heart
lay deep in my head when I dreamed.
One fat women I laid with, when older.
The sad part I think
is the part that made dreams.
I feel it's gone.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
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