It was too morn
When I reached to plafond
And ane sat on the banister
It embarked blur on glimmers
It's ac-rid cac-phony get me rouse
Uncover my head it was babblers queue
That render, dulcet, vowel vox
They waited for its lure
Though not finishing it carry it to nest
Bretherens bawlious voice awake me
I was conscious now, feeling incense
But it is not fogetable
Babbles browny befeather like a browny cloud
Concoctive amid by elan horse
Which is my longing reverie
May it will be materialise
If it's digit rise.
Such a nice start, Satyam. Read my poem, Love and L u s t. Thanks.
It is my first poem please tell me how it is & how I can make it more attractive, impressive and full of figure of speech.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting use of language, intriguing imagery, I loved it Thank you.