Front On The Bridge Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Front On The Bridge
The north wind out of brain
Brings
Cold and
Icicles
The speeding
Arrow
Was a fervid
Prayer.
As it sped
Through the airy chills
The frost on the bridge
Creaked of suicides:
Brains that transform
To stones
The Poet Seer
Wanted to draw a line
A straight line
Then
He
Went
To
Sleep
On
A
Hard
Stone
To
Dream
Sub-conscious
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: consciousness,dream,sleep
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5/3/2024 10:07:41 PM # 1.0.0.1119
