Sensing… By the fireside There is this romantic warmth Entering into my tunnel Eating up the cold carpet Beneath my feet Gnawing at every possible entry To gently open up all closed doors And windows Left to understand the poetic night With the solitary poet hunting In the forest of words There is a strong sense of belonging To this romantic language Where we don’t care about grammar… Warm wooden mood Breaks up into moody adventure Where the mind holds no logic Just to be with you Is what this evening warmth suggests The faulty tower is falling down On the heads of the many confused Who in desperation run into The caves of more confusion Where the faculty of deceit awaits For their arrival To mince them into pieces Of lost identity
Posted on: Tue, 25 Nov 2014 12:51:06 +0000
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