Poetry Hour : Painting pictures with words.

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Judging from the few lines of poetry below, what exactly were the writer's fear? What saddened him more? What title would you label this poem? "Leave your comments." 


August lamps upon the drunken moon. 
In deepest breath amidst my lightless companion.. 
Silent speech with an unfriendly stare. 
Have the marauding masquerades no rest..? 
After the apparent drift of dusk, by the crow I rise.

Unavoidably, my crow has lost it's own. 
Sacred straw of my timeless clock. 
Many haste of the impatient light 
Alas winter gates steals a solemn smile. 
"My Crow", My Crow" with streams of tears were my frightful call.

By
Khalifa Abdulsalam


Comments

Anonymous said…
This is extraordinary, can't seem to figure it out...
19 June 2016 at 17:27
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