Wilted Blossoms
S
saadat tahir
0
Altın Yaprak
Whipping boy of Victorian days.
Weeping lonely Silent prays.
Lordship has the gift of youth.
Dies an rises that uncouth.
The lash will pain as it rains.
Welts and wheals of those canes.
The rending howl is deeper yet,
dwells profound an endless fret.
Chutes and lutes and em toys,
goodies of life for those boys.
HE forgets to send me die;
be beaten blue at every ploy.
Smell of cordite bitter sweet.
All the better taken neat.
Burn the orchard trample wheat.
Smoke em out with searing heat.
Distant mumbles turn to grumble,
an in time a gun will rumble.
Crush a bone and pulp the flesh
in time shall geal to steely mesh
(Islamabad)
(May 11,2009)
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş