The Poetry in War
Boom…Boom…Explosions. I hear the sound of an explosion at my feet. I hear a whisper, a song, a speaking poet. Boom…Boom…and again. I see fog…or maybe smoke…it blurs. I see lips slowly screaming…a poet. Hands forming, someone sitting…scared. Boom…Boom…I feel breath, heat, then coldness. I’m shaking but I can’t feel the coldness anymore… A sheet of paper runs past my face…poetry. Boom…Boom…the words read are a song in my mind. Rhythm. Rhythm is always there. I am a poet.
Lunai no harai · Thu Jul 01, 2010 @ 06:36am · 0 Comments |