I.F. Kobjelska (31.5.1991)
Not All Of Them Are Black
Night pout to white morning.
Paths are like bosom of the
Albinek Royal path
to the sense is softer.
I put out corks from the corner of my eyes.
You can smell watter on the coat,
and earth is bowing to the scearm.
Comments about this poem (Not All Of Them Are Black by I.F. Kobjelska )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley