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I'd pick a dying bud from thee,
and find it,dying, unworthy of me;
it's beauty, though withered,
is much a snake a-slithered,
before his fangs find prey,
before his eyes glance day;
the glow of his liquid skin,
isn't there beauty therein?
The dead have their worth in this
realm, where beauty can be hubris
and denizens of hell have more worth,
than this man who'd love you to a fourth.

All not saved will be lost.

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The following comments are for "Unkempt"
by Siah

Siah does it again!
Ah, yes, another jewel from you, Siah! I would recognize your poetry even if it were juxtaposed with all of the Ranaissance love poetry of which your style reminds me.


( Posted by: ArsPoet2789ica [Member] On: June 15, 2007 )

beauty in decay...
and, of course, decay in [and of] beauty... these are classic themes. beauty can indeed be hubris. perceptive poem.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: June 17, 2007 )

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