To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Bactrian Hut!, Hut!, Hut! We are lifted, pitched, toppled and righted. Perched parallel to a faun sea with slow undulations - Small ripples that echo left and right from impossible surfaces, Riding slow on this stuff, borne on leather, Rocking away from the east and yesterday. And in the middle of the day the stopped pendulum hangs, holding and making us sticky in the noon. On over dune peaks with their grasses and trees; Evolving peaks consisting of small grains that look solid, but a puff of wind or the pressure of my camels foot May make parts of it come away, Shading a surfaces based on new things. And now, here is our wadi with its shade under the palm fronds That protects and offers succour from time. |
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!