HIS words were rusty,
his life standing behind
old, there was artficial
chatter coming from out
side, and a dancing light
my room.
HIS hands break these locks,
his legs push and push, until
they find forward,
his eyes open, then close, then
settle in this bipoler storm.
This is like a whirl-wind of emotion set on a stage, very profound and with deep feeling contained, thankyou once again David, I get so much from reading your works Love duncan X
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi David, you speak about bipolar a lot, this that because the mood you are in like kind of low. I was just wondering. Excellent poem lots of good emotion. Take care.