CAVERNS, , run deep with your
broken glass words, your shadow
slithers, in then out, then fades
away like a bullet in a gun.
SHAKESPEARE, , , screams, this
will make a great play, pity its
the whore, the drunk, the fool,
that fills my pen.
images. visions. colours. movement. did anyone ever think how a painter saw colours and how he visions the mix required for the effect? a curious mix with a vision of madness, where we all are. but never honest enough to admit it. you have done it. abstract like a vision in my dreams. loved it. jose
david there doing a book dont forget to submit three of your poems you could start with this one this is right up there get onto old shep in the forum he needs fresh talent it will give you a chance to put yourself right out there Warm regards allan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
interesting write David