PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Cereus was in bloom in nightwashed 
desert, sand was cool, it tipped off 
the contour drain, a river sent its compliments. 

If the death was at home, like an 
estranged lover, will you open the door 
in dusky stripes of morning? 

Rubber was burning in afternoon rain. 
An alert was sounded in curious lanes; 
the shadow was lengthening its stay! 


Standing on the burnt-out hull, I count 
the shouts of the fathers on artifical limbs. 
Bits of violence have broken the sea. 

The seedless fruits descend on the glistening 
coffin. A city walks with me without end. 
There were roses, roses all the way.