When told to hold a pen in order to write a poem,
The sacred feeling over the mountains asks who I am
In response, that being is water flowing with soul,
Carrying the pieces of rocks that will never stay cool
Initiate me with glance,
Fabricate me with one stance,
Litigate me to the divinity-sense,
Subjugate me along the ships of Pence
Whether a mountain or a bay in the horizon,
Love is a sword enabling one to have fights
No matter which day brings another season,
The world has already swum with your lights
Hold a pen, My Poetiwife
Have a seat by my life
Stick the bleeder-knife
The heart will only spell
And therefore will tell
'Life without is uniquely hell'
Your pen..the paint brush of your mind. Much expression flowing through this poem! Lovely; D
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the most thing i like about your poems is the metaphor....your wide imagining is very helpful for you to make your metaphor...can you write a metaphorical poem about the metaphor itself? ..that would be great if you wish to.you own the choice. thanks for sharing