They call out to me
In the shadows
Grieving alone.
The light falls apart,
As war in hearts,
Split my mind.
Weeping willows cried,
In lonesome holy nights.
Shadows Danced,
With gruesome
Halo plight.
Melancholy patriots of night,
Creeped to drum
And beat
To the songs
Nightingale sang.
With ferocity and vile
Like none other known,
The misty red cumulus
In dead stroke of dawn,
Gave no heed to
Pandemonium striving alone.
But perched on blood,
And called out to me,
With a hollow
Sailors might pray
To have.
They called out to me
To dance and mingle in
The shadows of the dawn.
*****
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Avismarniya ( A Book Of Poems )
PoetryAvismarniya : Adjective. That which can't be forgotten ; Unforgettable. ***** A collection of long lost memories, and new found dreams, some half broken pieces of works collected over the filtrate paper and some outstanding ones made with overwhelm...
