Lullabies give birth to a new sunrise,
and the wind lies still in the valleys low…
Sapphire skies sunken in static eyes,
the birch trees bark a belting blow…
Where echoes dance in sweet romance,
and love is whispered before the rainbow…
Transfixed in trance a gadded glance,
where hungry hearts begin to borrow…
For my love stands still near the daffodil,
where the meritable meadows grow…
Your love has lost its will a splatted spill,
and now my heart is full of sorrow…
My shallow screams in singing streams,
as time washes away the wounds of woe…
I’ve lost my dreams where beauty beams,
where the wind lies still in the valleys low.
July.12.2018
An incomplete love story
Sponsored by: Faraz Ajmal ,
Sentences that make no sense,
Words that are likewise afflicted.
Messages that are at best dense,
A vessel of verbiage is depicted.
Such is the state of modern verse
Designed to be deciphered by no one.
I doubt it can get a syllable worse,
Though I speak not of all, only some.
Shouldn't a poem present meaning?
Shouldn't it have something to convey?
Should I care what a poet is dreaming
If his/her dreams have nothing to say?
Lofty, soaring phrases are meritable,
Unless composed at wasted expense.
To abide them one must be charitable,
Then seek a poem premised on sense.