Thursday, February 18, 2016
I resisted the outpost, its plentiful cover
Was the rain beating downwards in pity
And pleasure, winnings and beginnings.
The right of a man under fire was strange,
Beaches turned slowly to the outside of air,
Potions arose like roses of the feelings,
These strawberries grew rich as can be.
For this mortal lesson it was the sense of
The lens, an angle offered by righteous men.
Eyes blamed eyes,
Forcing me to think, with juice gulped,
Cups were drained in a flurry,
I resisted the men of the hot curries,
Through the nose of the place I call.
May we see an insight of cleverness,
An intuitive kind of mind.
Topic(s) of this poem: fighter