On your silence
my mind keeps me verbose!
On your warmth
my pain learns regrets!
On your fervours
my soul bends down in pride!
Thy smokes never pour you,
Thy mirrors never image you,
are thy inflammable!
Thy grasses on you never crawled,
Thy waters in you never showered
are thy exhaustible!
Inertia with spirits, you dance,
is inept with clouds
I take to paint thee!
Thy hearts you merry,
Thy evils you burry,
is a story you indite!
You unveil my innonence
as if sun is your luster
moon is your helper!
O nature on you I rely,
I'm a part of you to shrine!
of death on your sands I lay
to imbibe you again!
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Comments about this poem (Wanderer by swetha vankayalapati )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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