The Wicket And The Bowl. Poem by Driss Ezzireg

The Wicket And The Bowl.



Splattered colors travel in my mind
Crooked images design my vision
Watery skies pour heavily into my heart
Sleeps from times ago fill my eyes
I gaze at moving stars with goggled spirit
Night drapes my farraginous expectations
I speak with the ghosts that haunt my nights
And dance with the spirits that shrine my days
Scenes of horrid rides in torrid lands red in blood
I bowing read the winds that drink my soul
Cry in silence over the wicket and the bowl.

Monday, March 21, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: visionary
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