It was pitch dark all over,
Gone was the moon with all its bloom,
A mouthful could not be felt,
Perhaps the wrong side of bed,
I had given water, swallow but could not.
Before the very act of life,
With in inside of light,
A dot not could be seen,
The scantiness terror was felt,
A jerk of snoozy hugs,
Laid would be under the stones,
For moments unrevealed,
For time unknown,
The hand of fate shakes,
But faint are men,
Busy in pursuits,
In the bustle of life,
In the care of both,
Much is to say,
Moments instantaneous die away,
For left behind is nothing.
Good poetic imagery threaded through your poem! Well done, ; D
I think you have a powerful imagination... Just dont stop yourself, while writing... John Keats once wrote in a letter to John Taylor... 'If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all...' I just want to say that dont stop yourself, you are like a tree and leaves will come naturally... the more effort we put to do good poetry, the more we lose the essence of pure soul... and without the purity of soul we can be poets, but not visionaries... i think you got my point here... take care God bless you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very strong and emotive lines.... written witha vein of vigour... lovely