When the winds blew low and high,
The sand swiftly felt shy and gathered along
The trees and the green grass danced all
As if dancing to the musical strings emanating
From the polygons afar and human roars.
Stunted, as I pen a love letter to my lost lover
My bubbled eyes became lazy and shut,
My dark chocolate skin felt hazy and minty,
My chaotic mind went puzzled and froze,
There I said: "surely the storm is coming."
The winds blew high and low,
Before the 18h00 roosters crows,
I found my sinking in the whirlpool
Within four shadows of the darkness,
With elusive red but seriously eyes,
Hung shoulders in black leather jackets
With a gun pointing at my forehead:
The 50th stadium stair turned 5 stairs down
As my 2 km home away become 10 meters away,
As I jumped my for my life's salvage
But my round face only kissed the dust;
As I rise, I'ld only found my pen and paper
For this I am able to tell my stories
The cold winds blew warm and fuzzy,
There I recalled that the winter was here,
And the collectors of our life's fortunes
Had begun their work of paramount theft.
There I recalled, I had been sitting by the stairs
All by myself before the Autumn days fade away
What a poetic way of telling a crime story....sad that you experienced such a scene but nice artwork
Thanks Simon, you've been a long term reader of my poetry....your comments are highly appreciated
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent write Lungelo, very imaginative and so creative in putting up a narrative poem like this one...10
Thanks Brian for adding positive contribution to this poem