Continued this for J Alan’s picture, go check it out on his site.
In thy youth, Rejoice!
Night it were, but a curtained sleep,
Drap-over muslin, tone faded leaked.
Light were but a wintry sun thick,
Time for a wake, awake to seek. (wake (funeral) not typo)
Curse of a slumber, million years jinxed,
Coiled-up fetal, sleep to hint.
People of the earth, dreams we’re in.
Evil and beyond, scringe, naught, blink!
Day were but a hidden dream,
Pinch to see the beacon’s ceam.
Sleep a curse reversed by dawn,
Anon, sky breaks, a day begun!
I see below me, the Kingdom of earth.
As I embrace, The opening dawn.
Note: I replaced the emailed version’s towards (line 8 ) with beyond, sounds nicer.
This poem’s quite clear and if there’s any abstractions you guys can’t fathom, just drop by a comment, cos I’m kinda moody today, sick and tired from school and have to get going to get a birthday prezzie for my baby brother who refused to be called a baby, always kick up a fuss when I call him baby and pinch his cheeks. In fact, his weathered cheeks has suffered 3 long years of incessant torturous regimes and the way he screams and shouts in a poseurish voice,” I hate you!” makes kisses more attractive.
He cried for a whole day, till his eyes were swollen when I told him matter-of-factly that he is THREE not FOUR. Yea, first documentary of a 3-year-old’s eyes swell with crying. Shit, I sound like a paedophile, but you know I’m not of course. And I know now why siblings often squabble and fight—because its fun! At least sissy thinks so.
Well, going out now, now or never.
Gee, the spacing function in wordpress always causes me trouble, it was supposed to be 4 stanzas, 4-4-4-2 lines.