Topic: Heart

Barberries

You say I touch the barberries As a lover his mistress? What a curious fancy! One must be delicate, you know— They have bitter thorns. You say my hand is hurt? Oh no, it was my breast, It was crushed and pressed. I mean—why yes, of course, of course— There is a bright drop—isn’t...

By Mary Aldis
Read More
10 November

After the Martyrdom

They threw a stone, you threw a stone, I threw a stone that day. Although their sharpness bruised his flesh He had no word to say. But for the moan he did not make To-day I make my moan; And for the stone I threw at him My heart must bear a...

By Scharmel Iris
Read More
29 October