Treasure Island

swetha vvr


Beat Bursts


A wisp of my hair is jury mast knot
with boundless time in each slot.
Touch of this far cry is damn brown
ecletic music i hear is fine drawn.

Falling hail stones i enrich for a drupe,
heat of greed to warm and grope
my molten tears, before sinking dreams
for carving my wounds.

Puff of wind hit hard in transient glance
water splashed on my face,
i woke up with defty fists
left foolishness on a knife rest.

Wearing wild lily in my hair
i dance to blende each feather
to wings in wipping rarefactions
to thy music resonating heartbeats hshh! !

Submitted: Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Edited: Tuesday, July 17, 2012

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  • Neela Nath (7/31/2012 8:38:00 PM)

    A great work Swetha.Well-rhymed, nice word play.Mr.Bob Wynn is right.Nothing is left.Really. (Report) Reply

  • Anele The_african_son Potelwa (umbhali_wasembo) (7/20/2012 2:36:00 PM)

    You know how much i enjoy rhyme? , and i am sure for a fact that the rhyme was dedictated to me :) ha ha ha ha,
    but with much joy i really acknowledge the rhyme, it has added to the magnÏficent fabrication of this great pen, and the words in each portion of the poem indeed represent the true comfort of expression in as far as harmony is by much concerned, i enjoyed the tender write, .... Very lovely and superb

    The_African_Son (Report) Reply

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