Thick Was The Mist Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Thick Was The Mist



Thick
was the mist
you could use the knife
to juggle and to
carve ways
out of it:
there is a Nile of red
red blood
on saffron wedges
and on cliff hanging ledges
tall
grey
giant shadows pass
sliding at times
from rock to rock
then
sudden
disappearing
in the caves by the clouds
hiding.
fire! fires!
I saw three shrouds
whose scarce clothes
and shabby
were on fire.
Those three shrouds
were running into fire
as rapid as the fires
blared.
No, not even in the
dawn
nor after.
fire! fires!
I saw three shrouds
whose scarce clothes
and shabby
were on fire.
Those three shrouds
were running into fire
as rapid as the fires
blared.

Saturday, December 27, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: life
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gajanan Mishra 27 December 2014

very beautiful, running in to fire, I like it.

3 0 Reply
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