Remaining hawk
in voyage of tears, birthing
a poem.
If art of communicating was
via testosterone, why
did you land on water?
Mongrels were increasing,
dirtying the road.
Greif multiplies. Hate was ingrained
in faith. The arithmetic goes wrong.
Landscape stays. Moon moves on.
Why red roses were
dying in your land? Tell me
angel, tell me.
The rage insults me. Who
was perfect in the crowd?
Do I ask the god?
Yeah, very difficult question to give answer. But somehow the life has to go on. The wheel of time must roll to take us to our destination. Very nice.
a poem of many questions? maybe we will know the answers one day!
I had to read this poem several times but then it dawn on me such words really don't always make sense to the reader only for the writer....? ? ? Congratulations! ! !
The rage insults me. Who Was perfect in the crowd Do I ask the god? A good stylistic embellishment Buried in the use of fine rhetoric questions. Well done! Sylva
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Perfect in the crowd... congrats on being selected...