"trumbling" poems
Sailed in seas which match the heavens
wispered secrets at a sunset
and followed the trumbling stars
the ship anchored to land green and reach
an unearthly melody that filled the air.
It was not the foaming waves
not the bird's sing
nore the leaves rustling.
And so the traveller wondered in confusion
until he met a stranger sitting at the foreland.
He did not ask where he is but from
where this music comes from.
The stranger turned and spoke.
"It's Dagda's harp and Apollo's canto
both in tune with Bragi's poem.
Now i travel home for you found yours
and so i return."
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
A sparrow, tweets.
A still creature somewhere in a yellow vacant tweets.
An open-hearted orphan, tweets.
Gloomy buds! They want to be flowers.
Blood drifts through the head and whiplashes me for your affection.
Emotionally choked by a memento-to-be makes me a burnt wood.
Beheaded bodies collapsing;
Time floods the corpses;
****** heads stick everywhere, as memories do.
A dagger stabbed in flesh tears it away;
Dripping blood, trumbling tissue;
The progeny are all already slaughtered.
A face is sprinkled by a loved one reddish gore, autopsying the memories.
Unjust? Carnivore brutality?
Celebrate the night when sun shines;
Hear out the thunderous waterfall noise;
Roll over on green to reach the orange warmth.
Kiss, literally;
Love, figuratively.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC