Dying Dream - Poem by Ananta Madhavan
The chariot shot down the cobbled slope,
Thundered past the ruins. The wheels revolted
And wobbled off; the axle crashed, the rope
Trailed limp; the yoke lay felled; the horse had bolted.
Tendrils of dream began to tug my eyes
As I awoke to find the white horse gone.
It pawed the ground and fled into the skies
In golden dust it flew towards the sun.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
was but a dream. I used the 4-line stanza with a-b rhymes to symbolise my world of order.
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