Between the fringes of our
heart beats exist a sky wearing
reading glasses.
A lamp burning our heredity
as oil.
In this presence, God is a past-tense.
A loophole between our spheres,
a reality you call a son
and an illusion i call a father.
From an old tale a hungry child
emerges holding my face.
Life is only a preface of a harlot.
I am her son, with many fathers.
I even father my own.
Alphos, a man foreordained
to be my bearer; may the Lord
grant him more days to see
me fall as autumn
to his wealthy heart, rich with
loving kindness.
Thank you soo much!
All those morning stars
never thought of a black child
who will shine as gold.
Thank you soo much.
I am a carbon copy of your
former self.
A slave for love and warm hugs,
that you share outside
from seing eyes.
My heart sees all your love.
Thank you soo much.
Thank you Manonton Dalan. I hope life keeps me going through these poems.
All those morning stars never thought of a black child who will shine as gold. Thank you soo much. I am a carbon copy of your former self. nice piece a good write thanks for sharing
I am a carbon copy of your former self. A slave for love and warm hugs, that you share outside very touching experience described so emotionally dear poet. thank you. tony
Life is only a preface of a harlot. I am her son, with many fathers. I even father my own. I am a carbon copy of your former self. A slave for love and warm hugs, that you share outside. ohh very very touching poem my dear poet. thank you for publishing your intimate thoughts. tony
Very good imagery, a mystical quality to this poem, I like it! Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you're very welcome keep going and good luck