Wasn't I the old deer?
Glassy eyed
probably brown with dirt?
Does it really matter?
Am untangled
and free to bask in
the light.
Was a grape-full of depression
my succulence lost in confusion
a bit red eyed
a bit bitter
that's the fruit I was in the past
untangled
and have become
an apple in your sight
Oh yes I was....
a city on a hill with an all year power blackout
an unarmored soldier
amidst shelling and war cacophony
These ashes often pout
probably forgetting
probably daunted and in fear
but you never let them lead from the rear
and they stand confidently
adorned with a beauty divine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very lovely and romantic, well articulated and penned in poetic diction to capture the conviction of the poet. A nice poem indeed. Thanks for sharing and do keep it up.