The Soul Of The Verse Poem by amanyu t thulasi

The Soul of the Verse

Sleepeth she some swarthy slumbers,
Dreams as die on dreary numbers.
Sleepest why thou? Sylph, requite me,
Numb and frozen tonsured young lea

Douse my thirst, my left eye throbeth,
Twitching lips, ghoul, why she robeth?
Ba of ka, mine fire of brilliance,
I be writing verses free hence.

Ope thy lids fay, lips sweet, deep, pink,
Soothe a seething globe of green ink,
Verse as air when sees unseen are,
Dead, forgotten children’s play far.

Breathe benethe thy commissure dire,
Fire unheaten calls ne true fire,
Verseless verses li’le call poesy,
Footless, sans hues, Hark this prophecy!

O fay revive thee ‘xhume from old men’s pall;
Disinter greener poesy, red them all.
Yet sleep all.
Now sleep all……
Amanyu T.