Can you hear my heart flutter like a bird deeply wounded,
singing with an autistic beak a frail, diaphanous tune?
Some pungent seeds have burnt its tongue,
but its eyes are all lit with the glorious reflections of their colour;
freed from the sockets,
to travel some distant lands….
…where the wind, sun, moon and the fruit all assault,
as stark as a hunter!
This poem you have given us is way cool, Priya! I like how you use somewhat difficult and descrptive vocabulary in describing your heart as a wounded bird. I hope you continue 'sprouting wings' in your poems most often. Shane
Some pungent seeds have burnt its tongue, but its eyes are all lit with the glorious reflections of their colour; freed.. poem is very sleek...it is nice roe on here..writes with good verses
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good simile with vivid imagery.....this is your metamorphosis as a great poet.