Pain Melting In Ire Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

The heart
The fire
The pain melting in ire
The sigh
The cry


The winds that
High
Over the cliff edge
Soared
Up the face of the cliff rock
Flared

Tonight
So many stars flare!
Of many colors they dare
But most be red
And
The moon stares.

Yawn the graves
Below
Sigh
The tombstones
In the moon
The skies
The heavens
The heights
Deep sadness grows.

The winds are wild
And to each other
Yell
And the hard rocks
The plains
The plains that stretch
And the ghosts by.

Atmospheres
Grotesque
Yet
All before Time, Lord Time
They bend.

The heart
The fire
The pain melting in ire
The sigh
The cry
The verse is slow - and sad.
This Verse allures
Of Beauty raw these verses scent.