And he doesn't know why I stand in my depression?
I dreamed that I was a bird
I moved my hand flexibly
And approached the edge smiling
To fall, committing suicide when I fell
How long was my estrangement
from my homeland until my fever exploded?
And I lit a fire, so my crying increased
And that was one of my reasons
To look at the homeland of my admiration
About the Creator
Kisama Riyo
I have always been interested in poetry and essay, especially rhyme style, so I decided to post my essay here and see if I have any talent in poetry or not.
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Winter Up High
Upon the North, where winter holds its sway, The frigid nights descend with solemn grace, A silent, diamond dust along the way, And moonbeams carve the shadows of the place. The wind, a ghost that whispers through the pines, Doth chill the very breath that leaves the lip, The ground is bound by frosted, silver lines, And stars, like scattered jewels, their vigil keep. The long dark hours demand a sheltered rest, Where firelight dances on the hearth's warm stones, And weary souls are welcomed to the nest, To chase the biting cold from blood and bones. Yet in this chill, a stark, pure beauty lies, Reflected in the vast and endless skies.
By Vinn Black4 days ago in Poets
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