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Elliott Rosenberg Poems
A beautiful Friendship
What started with a smile ended with a shovel, so I thought. Fifty years later behind the church, Where the hurly-burly began.
American Woman - - - - - - - - - - Standing before your deliberating presence,
The Woods - - - - - - - Have you ever made love in the woods, To a lady of a certain court,
Song of silence
Song of Silence - - - - - - - - - - - Today I felt alone, With so many friends to sing along.
Key to My Fathers Heart
Let us come to terms with each other, inconceivable as it may seem, For opulence draws its light from darkness, bleeding a convalescent moon.
From the ashes of Poland grandma arose, Like an apple orchard in bloom, For the ulcers of survival, Led her astray towards the ashrams of India this may.
, love and go beyond the valley ashore. For tomorrows yielding journey has yet to flower galore. Last night I walked in silence and bathed my skin in darkness,
I see the truth behind the light, That never fades against its darkness, Colors immense with disbelief, Draw lines that give forth vision.
If the moon had lips, that swelled with words, bulging from its fissures. Poignant wisdom I am sure,
Dark Ages - - - - - - The aroma of hell prevailed, smoking through porous ground,
When providence proceeds with caution, eluding starkness of day, a daffodil shall arise singing hymns of praise.
Levity - - - - If I can dream to fly away, Where would I go?
The Withered Rose
Rose of incessant color, Where have your petals gone? Withered with floral acumen, doused in florid wine.
Comments about Elliott Rosenberg
(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)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
A beautiful Friendship
What started with a smile ended with a shovel,
so I thought.
Fifty years later behind the church,
Where the hurly-burly began.
Though the silence begged for empathy,
Yearning maternal touch,
Sloped I stood,
Ringing the bells of everlasting friendship.
Then I turned to the campanile,
entrusted to my care,
Housing the carillon that pronounced Quasimodo's love.
Symbol of purity,
which rises unsullied through the evening sky.
Wider than a smile?
When will your sailors come home!
Festive and morbid among the sea, ...