Harp On The Ground
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
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Harp on the ground
Heavy.
Lyre too
Resting her head
On the soil
Dreaming
So long awaiting.
Behind
The coppice that
To the fast growing woods
Arising high
And higher yet
Transforms.
A Poet Seer
Silent inspects
A few sea shells
Brought
Up by the sea-waves
And Ocean's roar.
Wanes the silent
Day.
The birds sing
Not
Though in the trees
They hibernate
One night at least.
And the owl
With her greasy eyes
Looks far
Afar
Over the shore
Over the waves
The seas
The Ocean's gore.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş