A Drums And The Rose Red Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

you are putting out on the sandbank
what it is uncomfortable.
the sky is still bright, but a storm
is already approaching.
from a distance chants are heard,
and playing mourning
in the rhythm of sounds of kettledrums

and is there... red rose.

the heads from bald dwarfs,
batons are hitting
on the stool he, biggest,
sprawled with arrogance
the stool already seems
the unavailable base, now.
he is screwing up falsehood eye
he is giving up oneself to dreams
sending smiles, conferences convenes
and is giving venom to others,
which alone, he is grooming
in order to only to find
the peace in oneself
and to soothe the soul
talking to oneself

- to feed nobody I must not

and I can still, only give the poison with it
what they will oppose, and they won't listen
the pretext will always be somewhere and
some, in order only not a compulsion,
dividing an their 'paradise' earthly
although it tree in this garden of dreams
are growing wilted already with beauty apples