Another Row Poem by Vik Harley
Another Row
As the words spilled out
more sour than my drunken bile
my heart rhythm beat
this - is - it
this - is - it
Stood by the Portland
the meter by the mile
you stand on the street
this - is - it
this - is - it
I want you to see
the confusion inside
as the queue moves along
this - is - it
this - is - it
I want us to be
not something we tried
You refuse what IS wrong
This is it
I look to you
This is it
Another row
This is it
£7.20
This is it
And my head on your tear streaked pillow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 5:15:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I am very interested in seeing what you do with this poem. I live by a railroad and the rhythm of your heart and (? the train/subway...) really intrigued me. Lines 17 and 18... will you work with them further?