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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429667" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Offering</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I offer you my forests and my street-cries <br>With hands of double-patience under the clock, <br>The antiseptic arguments and lies <br>Uttered before the flood, the submerged rock. <br>The sack of meal pierced by the handsome fencer, <br>The flowers dying for a great adventure. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I offer you the mysterious parable, <br>The mount of reason, the hero's glassy hymn, <br>The disquieting uproar of the obvious <br>Hate in the taproom, murder in the barn <br>The long experienced finger of the Gulf Stream, <br>The flying sense of glory in a failure's dream. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I offer you the bubble of free will, <br>The rarefied agony of forgotten places, <br>The green cadaver stirring to the moon's pull, <br>The cheerful butchery of raw amateur faces <br>Which, like the half-blind nags shipped off for food <br>Die, doubtless serving some higher good. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I offer you the Egyptian miracle, <br>The acrobat doing handsprings in the rain, <br>A touched up photograph in sepia <br>Of the future teasing the fibres of the brain <br>I offer you the seven league army boots he wears <br>Striding down the black funnel of the years. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I offer you a coral growth of cells, <br>A flash of lightning anchored in a carafe <br>The withered arm of the last century <br>Cannot provoke a demon to anger us, <br>The strap-hanging skeleton of what has been <br>Is out of date forever like the crinoline. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I offer you clouds of nuisance, fleur de lis, <br>The opening lips of summer where pigeons rest <br>The exploding office of the vast nebula <br>The heraldic device under the left breast, <br>The taut string and the scribbler's Roman tread <br>Impinging on the slow shores of the dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I offer you the tithes of discontent, <br>The deck-games played with shadows on a cruise <br>Beyond the islands, marked on the ancient maps <br>With the broken altars, markets in disuse <br>To some &quot;unspoilt&quot; and blessed hemisphere <br>Where comfort twists the lucid strands of air. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would offer you so much more if you would turn <br>Before the new whisper in a forgiving hour. <br>Let all the wild ones who have offended burn, <br>Let love dissemble in a golden shower, <br>Let not the winds whistle, nor the seas rave <br>But the treasure be lapped forever in an unbroken wave. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is nothing that I would not offer to you, <br>My silken dacoit, my untranslatable, <br>Whether in the smug mountains counting the stars <br>Or crossing the gipsy's palm at the Easter fairs <br>With so much that is difficult to say <br>Before the frigid, unpeculating hours <br>Shall drive this foreign devil to the sea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Kenneth+Allott">Kenneth Allott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=429667" data-title="Offering de Kenneth Allott" data-description="I offer you my forests and my street-cries 
With hands of double-patience under the clock, 
The antiseptic arguments and lies 
Uttered before the flood, the submerged rock. 
The sack of meal pierced by the handsome fencer, 
The flowers dying for a..."></div>
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