PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Thirsty I endure a wicked desert. 
Scorching wind plucks the eyes. 
Legs ache. Ankles swell. Drag we must in fever. 
To forbidden land. 
Tell me how far we have to go? 
There is only the defiant spirit 
which is burning incessantly. 

The secret flight of a river took place 
at night, 
leaving the banks dry as bone. 
On the shores the guns are positioned. 
Green parrots have suddenly departed 
from the tall branches. 
Any time the explosions will start 
with deafening row. 

This very day the sun will hide 
when the ravens will start descending 
and eagles swoop for the knocking death.