Saturday, 2 May 2015

A Language

National Geographic Space Picture: Source

I wish to include


In my lines

To give every object

A cozy feel

To make them happy

For being

Denizens of verses

Let the lines be made of birds,

Stones, woods, rivers,

Ice and fire

Holy men, sinners,

Hunger, riches

Venom and nectar

Let the pages be filled with

Dull, drab, dreary

Death and destruction

Let the words sing

In unison with shamans

With shrewd Machiavellians’

Expedient aim

With sighs of the oppressed

All reasons have rhyme,

Trajectory of their own

Light dots in heaven

Speak in harmony

In a perfect rhythm

Does this universe move

Poetry is the language

Of Existence

So we live and die


Posted for Poetry Pantry @ PoetsUnited