nonsense like spell ball running down in the
window pain of snorted mother tears, my only
savors of pain I do live and begin to cry
lurk the side shore the eyes watch, flamboyantly
touch every doled out of every smell of yesterdays
memoirs, the white coated cloth of honesty in
days stay in the sonoma down of beguiling tales,
comes to live
leap alas! the waves breaking lazily on the pacific
shore of the eastward dream, a consummate
raconteur of spellbound of resting soul, hear and
listen the warmth Zamboangan choir, the adoring
sun of moonlight solstice, my wonderful return
fad sees the point of the resting hype, oh! mooring
wave, the bohemian soul, leave to go and rise to
elude, as I touch the mourning glow of my pleasant
Pillow, now go
left me out the very best bits of a longer fill in the
greatest gaps I smell...
Nice one. reminds me of my own write pillow. I specially liked the fourth verse of this poem. Good.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like your style and word choices. I also like the rhythm of it, it's sort of disjointed in a way, which leads to the feeling I believe.