a veil


I am the slow dying of day
meticulously folding darkness
into neat nights of no reason

I am despair with a name
that comes with long practice
and a big love to go

serenity is a ticking bomb
in suburbs of even less
where the unmoved burn

it is such a lovely illusion
I pass to the children
there will be no more

the gifted will dance
the poor will feed their time
to the calling senses

a horse a bird a wild thought
a bough rocking
in the gift of few seconds




Poetry by Bob
Read 587 times
Written on 2015-01-11 at 00:53

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text



This is truly inspiring. It speaks to me of the times we are living, the differences in religions and the wars waged over them. I like this very much.
2015-01-11