Picturesque Anvil Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

Picturesque Anvil

Rating: 5.0


I just drank some amber spirits,
that burn with fossil nostalgia,
encumber with humdrum to long a child,
purged from a fertile womb.

Will you be that woman of country ideology,
whose mother instilled judicious dominion,
to forgive the immaturity of a raging sage,
and praise the doxology of youth.

Today I will be the obfuscation of reason,
the ambiguity to clarity,
a gaunt fragrance of indifference,
and at last the eyes that warm your heart.

Enough woman do not make me cry,
do not make me clamor,
do not make me dream with anxiety,
of the plumage that shrouds your silhouette.

I just want to raise the malefic curtain that confines your kindness,
see your flushed bosom cudgel mordantly with ambrosia,
ferment each minute of agony to elixir,
under a picturesque anvil cloud.

Picturesque Anvil
Saturday, April 13, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: birth,child,kindness,love,woman,youth
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
I am looking for a woman with patience, not to peeve, to love me through the fertilization process. That wants to make a child with me. Without convictions. And so I wrote this poem in Bogota, Colombia on April 12,2019 with the hope that true love exists.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Konab Ghumman 25 November 2019

beautiful and expressive thoughts

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Jazib Kamalvi 14 April 2019

A refined poetic imagination, Elliott. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.

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