Passion Be the Seed of Crimes

Shall I take one breath, and give to you with thee other hand
It may be hard to understand
For I am but a humble man
And I shall not walk with empty hands

Even through my heart is riddled in depth
I shall not be lost within myself
Though my body is made of skin and bone
Behind blue eyes, my heart is forever home
Even in the silence when I'm alone

Bewildering thoughts that have come to roam
Slowly make their passage home

Like the seas that come to part
I to feel the passage of my heart
Less I be of humbler times
Then to lose my hand in riddles and rhymes

Passion be the seed of crimes
And like the wind I hear the chimes
Even though my heart is open
Never shall it be left broken

For I was never born on barren soil
Nor shall I linger here to spoil
With this hand, I may taint thy self
But I am still conscious of myself

| Poetry 1 | Poetry 2 | Poetry 3 | Poetry 4 |

| Poetry 5 | Poetry 6 | Poetry 7 | Poetry 8 |

| Poetry 9 | Poetry 10 | Poetry 11 | Poetry 12 |

| Poetry 13 |

Copyright © Darryn John Murphy