Night has awakened with its
rustling claws; searing shearing;
meager remnants of sleep
Soon the bins of home unworthy
thoughts, littering streets of forehead
would stench signs
that undo fastenings
“of happily ever afters”
Last of fires from your shoulders
where my head had rested once
offered some hope
to wrest out winter
from the frozen lines
of fate
In that endless jungle of insomnia
someone laughed
I washed and enshrouded
Another corpse of laughter
Perhaps nights always
have the last laugh
wow...the darkness here is simply gorgeous...and I love love love the third stanza...excellent write my friend.
'perhaps nights always have the last laugh' Wah Wah! ... excellent.tasteful a gem glistening in the dark of night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wonderful complex metaphor ''Last of fires from your shoulders where my head had rested once offered some hope to wrest out winter from the frozen lines of fate '' embedded in a wonderful poem...10++