First Line Was Enough For Verse Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

For
Blossomed sweat of horror in the trench
Of fear, yellow Fear.
March - trudge - march…

And horrid echoed goblin laughs.

And eerie the cries up of the night wolves.
That bayed in simultaneous choruses to the moon
Their snouts were haunted.

There was a Fire in the Bull
That was night - and dark -
And burning wavering
And burnt even on Edges of the Dawn
From stars and moon, from Night.

A few words, Sir, is All I say
Yet that few be Primitive and Genesis
First Line the genesis of more Verse.