Portia Burton Poems

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To A Departed Loving Poet...

When in the evening I feel alone,
I sing to myself your song,
And feel your presence in my heart,
As if you are singing along.

The Sonata Of A Stream

The delicate evening flowers
Have opened out their hearts
To exchange their fragrance
With musical notes of the birds.

This Poem

How this poem weighs heavy on me!
I want to shrug it off or scratch it out
Like a scab covering a throbbing wound,
Or put it away in a dark corner

The Flowers Said...

While I was leaving the garden,
The flowers asked me with care,
'Tell us, friend, Do you want to carry
Something with you from here? '

'I Am In Your Words'

While I am reading my new poem,
Several days after its completion,
It strangely doesn't seem to be mine,
But a reflection of someone else.

On Waking Up....

Sometimes while going to sleep
I feel I am my own tomb,
The ceiling above its marble lid,
Or am I returning to mother's womb?

On The Top Of The Hill

After a daylong arduous trek,
We had erected a makeshift tent,
Others went to sleep but I was awake,
Although tired and equally spent.

When Will You Come?

When will you come, oh, tell me please!
I am getting submerged in the night's abyss!
The moon and the stars have averted their eyes,
Oh, I am forsaken even by the fire-flies!

This Dreamlike Moment!

Oh, this dreamlike moment!
The sweetness of your kiss,
I didn't know until now
That love would be like this!

Our Love's Dreamlike Dawn

Lost in each other, we sat in silence
In the soothing shade of the great oak tree,
While in the west the sun seemed to be reluctant
To go down saying 'good bye' to you and me.

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