http://www.americanheart.org/presenter.jhtml?identifier=339
Heart failure
My heart is a frog-filled swampwith my emotions breaking out
into croaks at inopportune moments.
The sluggish rhythm of its beat
is like the wind that never blows
in the mangroves.
Occasional rivers
peddle their transparent
wares to greedy soil that
trap them fast,
never to flow again.
The water stands still
around the Corchorus.
Reedy roots carry
the wetness that is all around
to the leafy crowns that
speak to the sun.
A few gutsy parakeets
from the marsh fly up
to my drowning brain,
hoist it up with
brilliant tail-feathers and
feisty ropes of jasmine.
The sogginess breeds
grasshoppers for an alto
to the choir of the
newly tailless tadpoles,
and a crescendo of
assorted emotions yet
to be named.
Poetry by Arti
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Written on 2007-01-10 at 17:45
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