HOW OUR HUT BECOME A BIRD?
Likegolden ring
flows under
the river
something flew
under words...
Through the
torn gap of
the blanket
chilling wind
came inside
as prediction...
One feather
of the flying bird
fell over our
house...
and our house
itself
become a bird.
Poetry by anoop.m.r
Read 1409 times
Written on 2008-04-02 at 04:44
Tags Poem
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
lan |
|
jhonson |
|
boon |
