Woken Poem by Orlando Belo
Woken
I was woken by the howling wind in the small hours.
The clock was showing three forty-four.
The shutters were banging against the outside wall
and a draught blew under the door.
Driving rain was being carried by the relentless wind,
peppering the windows and rattling the letterbox.
Cold air circulated around the bedroom and house,
but I was warm under my duvet and in my woolly socks.
Thunder shook the house in the small hours,
whilst flashes of lightning lit up the room.
After that I must have fallen off to sleep again,
because I
Wowww the rhyme and sharing your whole day in this work feel like i peeping your lively diary hahahaha...the last line is my favorite, beautiful and so poetic! loved it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 2:29:48 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Sometimes, I think I ''hear'' the soothed sun saying ''good morning'' to the tired moon. After that, I realize that it was only the cold wind saying ''good morning- still tired? '' I look at the sky and I see a red, seemingly happy sun and an exhausted, white moon. For sure, they send each other attraction energies. In the Sumerian literature, the moon has been a foreign planet, named Kingu, before becoming our natural satellite. The moon couldn't escape her sun's attraction.What do you think about this style- I mean, what do you think about the Sumerian literature? Excellent poem. Voted 10.