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Pierre Mhanna Poem
Beneath the pines my sister sleeps
No joy or woe upon her creeps,
My falling tears call out to hear
Once more her voice warming my ear,
Yet my sister sleeps in deep rest
No voice will call her from the west,
Forever unseen now she dwells
There where the darkness swells and swells.
Copyright © Pierre Mhanna | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Pierre Mhanna Poem
Oh my sad heart, where will you sleep?
No roof or shade your head to keep
From sun or rain, from wind or frost,
You roam the streets with your face lost,
And you search! In your eyes I see,
You search for her whose face is free
From veils that shy the sun and moon,
From words that sneer at night’s calm tune,
For her whose eyes are sky and sea
A pool of deep profundity,
For her whose hair a river flows
On shoulders white as winter snows,
For her whose hand, a wave and breeze,
Stroking the leaves with tender ease,
For her whose belly grows a tree
Lush with flowers for bird and bee,
You search and your cry rises clear
Falls amid ghosts whose souls don’t hear,
Yet by your door a lamp you keep
For a roamer whose soul might creep.
Copyright © Pierre Mhanna | Year Posted 2014
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