Sunday, October 18, 2009

Poetry Year October 11

Setting is the sun,
a set of memories in my mind,
set on a table like sumptuous feast,
that sets my mind to spinning through,
all the meanings set in words.

Setting this aside,
the set of it an aspect from a far,
that is the set that frames our time,
that shows that all is set for change,
our contract set as beset by o'er ambition.

A set of forgotten melodies, behind it,
a background to which our set dances in a row,
it has set upon us ghostly fragments,
that sets our love off fire.

This has set a limit on our glances,
they are constrained to set a good example,
and set ourselves to renew all that once was lost,
to set that stone of perfect love a fresh.

No matter what the cost.

Our broken lives are set again,
to heal in time that nature sets,
and in this setting of the world as stage,
sets into it's final shape from phantom mold.

How I have set down these words,
and set upon them my sign and seal,
that comes to you as a kiss,
though you've set your face to stone.

The meaning ripens, set to fruit,
a set of verses to move in shapes and kind,
that our whole set will laugh upon,
ridiculing love set to music blind.

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