Thinking of reality and surreality...
My entrails are made of mud,
and bones of lime,
wrapped with flesh.
On dry soil and rocky ground,
a pine tree covered with
its own resin and bark
defies to the king's flight
of the eagle in search for a prey.
Do someone's eyes fade
away and steps get numb?
There is a song of pain that
curses conquerors and
the enslaved, and cannot exist
differentally. There is a song
that curses infidelity and
unreturned love...
And I hug the hills and mountains
of my beloved country,
and the hope of frank embrace.
My entrails are made of mud,
and bones of lime,
wrapped with skin and flesh...
Poetry by Dejan
Read 878 times
Written on 2006-12-16 at 19:58
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Embrace
My entrails are made of mud,
and bones of lime,
wrapped with flesh.
On dry soil and rocky ground,
a pine tree covered with
its own resin and bark
defies to the king's flight
of the eagle in search for a prey.
Do someone's eyes fade
away and steps get numb?
There is a song of pain that
curses conquerors and
the enslaved, and cannot exist
differentally. There is a song
that curses infidelity and
unreturned love...
And I hug the hills and mountains
of my beloved country,
and the hope of frank embrace.
My entrails are made of mud,
and bones of lime,
wrapped with skin and flesh...
Poetry by Dejan
Read 878 times
Written on 2006-12-16 at 19:58
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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