This is a desolate island of
strange mobidities,
where the desert Sun's rays
glitter like spangles in the violet sky.
In the hot Cactus sand;
The insolent child, swimming
through ripe dreams like a
shark through water.
In a corner, the damp rat
sits humming it's
dreadful lullaby.
And then the Fat woman,
her flesh melting into the soil
like hot butter.
Then the regal elephant;
pounding the ground with gallant strides
of purple silk
sweeping portentously.
The sky is painted with
orange squiggles of halfhearted
coloured arcs.
The nightsky exclaims! The pantaloon
spoke. An eruption of colours;
and then I awoke.
The sly moon was hushed,
in the sky. The sun remained,
but it's fire no longer burning bright.
This is wonderfully free in movement - I'm really liking what I see here in your work! Anne
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Who are we to judge or rate or comment? You know that was great like a ballplayer knows when he hits a home run. Alas, the analogy doesn't even do the poem justice. Sigh. Great.