the twilight sun...
without tease or the feel of burn
smooth dying and so benign
bestowing little men and women with candid fatelines...
simple...lucid and thing so round
as if to lift the waves of water beyond the bounds
of embankment so solid like rock
the sun going to sleep...
a perfect egg yolk...
carrying the secrets of birth perhaps...
and the scent of time elapsed...
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
twilight sun...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The State Funeral
At least they have given her The State Funeral With tongue cut, She could not have spoken for The rare award, The police have done the th...
-
For the last few days... They are not talking... They just listen together-songs... Not songs proper even-some kind of music, instrument...
-
Lord As a pianist whence Fully one fills a sense... An evening thinks perhaps it proper To become a starry night's divine lover... ...
-
Chapter 1 ------------------------------------ Amit Ray is a barrister. Following English tradition, when he adopted the surname "Roy...
No comments:
Post a Comment