Old Poetry - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

i always come back
to your arms

i am not happy
but i have no choice

your arms are cactus
but i do not mind

i make most of what
imagination can offer

there will be sun
where there is none

i make rain
i also unmake them

everything are sands
in my hands

i open my fingers
as dams

sands trickle
waters pour

rivers form themselves
i make a mouth

where they can find
rest and be lost in the sea

this is what imagination is all about
one word: survival.

Comments about Old Poetry by RIC S. BASTASA

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 21, 2012

[Report Error]