MY BOWL BELLY WAITS Standing tall, toes frozen to ice. My hands shake, like of a local charm king. My bones are so feeble and weak, feels as strong as a ladybird. My eyes have blurred, as a bat i see. It’s my linen coat i hold so dearly... Alone and hungry, my pangs eat like a fox. As my feeble legs, clutch me tight. I hold up. The stench of my dried sweat, so sweet abutts in my larynx, Craving for a swallow, my mouth agape stares the world. Strongly i so wish, that the odour would fill my belly. To the scotch of sun so hot, i give a bow, as my knees kiss the ground, in Pain i salute. Curled up in wait, for the dark to cool me down, as the night breeze presses me so hard in disguise, My faith clinches on, for my star will shine brighter. This dream of a spoonful has been on for years. All in torture, I dance in pathos and tears. My thrilling fantasy eats up my air like a pest! As i gasp for breath, i hope that tomorrow will be harvest. My bowl belly waits, Waits for a bowl of my blue plate.
Posted on: Thu, 04 Jul 2013 12:19:37 +0000
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