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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
Opening a new collection of poems, the reader thus discovers a new world, a new thought, a new form. Rereading the classics, a person receives a magnificent aesthetic pleasure, which doesn’t disappear with the slamming of the book, but accompanies him for a very long time like a Muse. And it isn’t at all necessary to be a poet in order for the Muse to visit you. It is enough to pick up a volume, inside of which is Poetry. Be with us on our website.

Read books online » Poetry » snapshots by peter edgell (bookstand for reading .txt) 📖

Book online «snapshots by peter edgell (bookstand for reading .txt) 📖». Author peter edgell



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rise
A single point upon the arm –
A loneliness
Inside the quiet crevice
Of the soul


Pitsea Girl gets a burger



Cold night with leaves that flick like rats –
sudden, hungry in their dash –
and burger vans where shadows chime
and call like toms at mating time…

Cold night with bristled heaving wind –
convoluted, air of cash –
and boastful cries for one small sign
of local dogs at mating time…

Hot night is here for Pitsea Girl –
grazing back against some wall –
He ask her if his length is fine…
Who gives a fuck at mating time?

Cold night, cold night with rubber seal –
breaking back the birthing splash –
for racers driving to the rhyme
who could not stop at mating time…

Cold night for Pitsea Girl, in dreams –
Will no-one love her with the dawn?
Will no-one to her breast incline
except to kiss at mating time?


Pitsea Women



they comb the shops for
coded spells,
magic in the make-up aisles

like forward echoes
of their daughters,
they raise their hems,
drop their tops
and thin their bras to
pin the prints of nipples on
like medals

they talk in broody tones
aimed away from middle-age –
where weight comes creeping
round the waistline,
thin blue deltas
court the ankles,
sight betrays
and skin, when pinched,
takes so long to settle

they hunt in packs,
eyes caressing,
wet for younger men

Imprint

Publication Date: 07-17-2011

All Rights Reserved

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