Beneath the arc of a forlorn sun
I pleaded with your ghost.
Made banquets of ancient memories,
Poured draughts of faded kisses as wine
And begged for you to play the host.
I toasted to echoing sighs,
To whispered, needy names,
To longing, loving eyes.
Calling up your spirit again.
I realised I merely spoke to air
Yet spoke I did and still,
Much blinded to newborn dawn,
Of bittersweet was filled,
I danced with your silhouette
And feasted on the stillborn sorrow
of bitter, passed time.















Devious Comments
Comments
Gosh how unfair...I just noticed that whenever I and many other people submit poems into this category it hardly gets any page views. This poem deserves to be exposed more.
--
~I arrived in America's airport with clothings, US dollars, and a jar of gypsy tears to protect me from AIDS. ~
--
--
Previous PageNext Page