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Rizaet Russell Poem
Yellows mourn by the window side
Gorgeous Blues and Violet's bride....
Famished wild feed the route,
Once when asked by nature did they loot;
Fine morning's bliss and evening's dexterous mute!
Strange as the mysteries of heart, once when knit never depart
Strange are the tears of the sky, she cries till her eyes dry.......
There is this smiling night on his flight, irresistibly enjoying the world's plight
AND yet I don't Know why the Yellows mourn by the window side?
Gorgeous Blues and Violet's Bride..............
The handsome Night crawls upon the day,
Caressing and cajoling the imperial palace gay
The worms feed the dead as they ready themselves for the test,
the wind carries the putrid stench far into the wilderness chest....
Rounding on a frightened hare, is an old jackal sly;
with envious greed is an eagle, on the pry..............
All around there is joy and evil delight,
Yet I don't know why the Yellows mourn by the window side?
Gorgeous Blue and Violet's Bride.......................
Copyright © Rizaet Russell | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Rizaet Russell Poem
The Soldier's Wife
The sea is rough, the land broken dry
The day has come for the heart to sigh;
As the drums resound from the hill-towers
He marches with them one among hundred's number.....
I watch him leave, standing beneath the bowers
A lone tear swells from the corner of my eye!
The corn is unripe, the meadows are yellow
But his heart is strong as the wind that bellows;
The music stops, they kiss the King's hand
No one speaks and everything feels bland,
Like the bile that rises in my throat;
Lord knows when I will see his boat.
Now that they have set sail to a distant shore;
What tale will the sea bring, will they survive the gore?
The little one twitches her toes, looks at her fingers,
Unknown to her is the world of the Elders
And as she smiles I hold her to my bosom,
Father will come, I tell my blossom...
Today, the hearth is warm, the heat in my heart
the sheep well fed and the children in bed;
I look at the sea it's waves shimmering in moonlight,
it breaks on the shore with teasing delight,
Twenty nights after, a word has flown,
He will come, he will come home......
Copyright © Rizaet Russell | Year Posted 2017
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