Sunday, August 08, 2010

An ode.

Lying bare on the shores, I wait for the sound,

Whispers from the sands, As my voice is drowned,

Searching and seeking, few ripples from the ground

Thin bubbles burst off me, sun smirked and frowned,

Writhing I struggled with sands, to wrench one mound,

Earth, I know, waits for me, to spin it round.

Still it stands, cold, frozen and bound,

I seethe as it sears, the pain grows as it hound,

Rays wring my ribs, snow covers all ground

I wait and wait, for the sands to resound.

DIALECT. left to time, it withered, like a dead corpse hung from wall, after the sentence. no poems to defend, no stories to tell, n...