Treasure Island

Fatima Nusairat

(Jordan)

As the mountain sniff the thyme


As the mountain sniff the thyme
The valley the basil,
The forests the trees and swamps.

As the waves launched their rein and foam,
And the chest of the sea open to his sensualism and obscenity
As the knower's wisdom roar in the ebb and flow night,
As the remnants of ruins linked to her argillaceous cradle,
And the seas to their shores and islands to their seas.
....
My face attached to his freckled crescents shadow,
Carved by myths gods, and sacrificial rites,
Attached by panting poems, the smell of death stories..
Escapee from the sand, and dissolved in his nucleic acid.

Submitted: Friday, February 21, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (As the mountain sniff the thyme by Fatima Nusairat )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Dance Away...., Diana Euyoque
  2. What I Want From This Crazy Place, Lucy Dowlingbrown
  3. In Dreams I Prefer To Be, Rohit Sapra
  4. Treasure Chest Of Our Soul, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  5. Where the mind is free, Praveen Gola
  6. Freedom Of Creativity, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  7. City of Gardens, Akhtar Jawad
  8. Heart's Timeless Chambers, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  9. chand aur chehra, rohit kumar choudhary
  10. Lust, Gianni Pansensoy

Poem of the Day

poet Sara Teasdale

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]