I don't know the name,
or purpose,
of that voice climbing out of you,
with its claws digging into the rocky wall of your throat.
Cerulean secrets and crimson wishes for fame,
you list off in the voice elongated and bottomless.
When you sigh, breathing it out like an improvised note,
the voice falls back into your sunken red stomach, still heavy with hunger.
Cerulean secrets and crimson wishes for fame, ............... the secrets whern stashed in hide, . yet bloom by the fragrance of flower................oh what a wonderful and powerful imagery, wrought ingenious,10+, thanks for sharing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely poem with beautiful imagery.Loved it! A 10+.