Blinding darkness began to
coil him...with a bang,
it was a farewell with words.
But-before that
the reckless primitive genius
beheld different horizons.
Smelled frenzied storms
on far-away seas.
Pushed his boat over rising
tides singing seagull's songs.
A life and death drama of
a wounded marlin thrilled him.
Had fleeting dreams...
a bloodied soldier..raging bulls
sounds of thick dark woods.
Gathered rescuing words
over the frothy waves
and a definition
'-writing is nothing but
to sit at typewriter
and bleed.
Nice poem, I liked it, Very well thought and written........10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Reckless primitive genius speaks about imagery here. So wonderfully shared really...10