So I bleed yet again, not from the slings
and sharp arrows of your thoughts but of mine,
the color of my blood is no more blue
but a dark shade of red in my brittle veins!
I know, bleeding and being burned is our lot
as poets immersed in the flame of their thoughts.
The other night I had been to the dark side too
and saw how the moon craved for the warmth of the sun;
it craved and pined just as we, human beings, might do
when the light had left vowing never to return!
There was the promised land built with my bleeding heart,
coagulating upon that dark and windless plain!
So, let my people go, I cried to the ruthless world
and took my soul to fight in a gladiators’ game!
.
Awesome, Amit! Love the biblical allusion.
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Thank you!
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You’re welcome!
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😀
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Sad and honest, the poets are bleeding poems, not arrows
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yes but after being hit by arrows 😀
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Totally agree
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😀
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The english is not my native languaje, but, the painful it is the same feeling
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English is neither my native language! But we were a British colony for 200 years and hence the familiarity with the masters’ tongue 😦
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Namaste
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Salam!
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You must have been a warrior in your past life 😀
love the power that resides within these lines!
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that is a glowing compliment to have from a poet of your stature!
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Reblogged this on Riley Amos Westbook.
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thanks!
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Gem of a piece!
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thank you!
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