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Below is the poem entitled Encomium which was written by poet Bozhidar Pangelov. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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At that hour
 the breeze turns around.
 The fishermen are coming back
 with hands splintery,
 without lips,
 with eyes of stone.
 The bottom is empty
 like a bottle at midnight.
 The shore is there
 where somebody’s waiting.
 They’ve sleept for a long time. Dreaming.
 With hands locked together.
 He, the wind, the last one
 an orphan, leads


Copyright © Bozhidar Pangelov

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