Buried in sunken eyes sleep the dreams—
Countless corpses of abundant wishes—
As silent as a songbird that has lost its voice.
There reign phantoms of deeds
Like a sadist, remorseless ruler.
The magic wand destroys slumber, and
The dreams fall in—as loyal as Arthur’s soldiers;
They revel and dance to a fresh tune of promises
Till arrows kiss them as chosen prey.
Mortified they sink in dreamless sleep.
Peace prevails as martyrs die,
Deeds are done as dreams untie;
Life lies as a nursery of deathless dead.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
Death—premature or likely, accidental or natural—always leaves an impervious void in souls of those near ones where gentle tunes of ...
-
Where, so far and afar, does my soul wander in pursuit of Those tunes of thy flute that lets the breeze moan? Where does to an alien plac...
-
This is a repost originally published two years back on the 35th death anniversary of my dear mom.... "Mother, I shall weave a chain...
Though your poem is titled Life. Your lines makes me think of death and broken and unfulfilled dreams.
ReplyDeleteNow I see why your comments are so poetic :), you have wonderfully strung the words to generate profoundness.
ReplyDeleteThanks, everyone !
ReplyDelete