He holds his pen, poised, sedulous,
For the tarmac conflict, to strip
His dreams from bloody, circuitous
Biers of thrift; his sweaty grip
Wavering under the red, fermented
Smell of clay - monsoon soaked -
Beneath the gray outside, shirted
With the overwhelming, cloaked
Odour of gutters overflowing -
As with the shreds of limpid sunlight -
In conflict, he senses the burgeoning
Night through his forty-watt sight.
For the tarmac conflict, to strip
His dreams from bloody, circuitous
Biers of thrift; his sweaty grip
Wavering under the red, fermented
Smell of clay - monsoon soaked -
Beneath the gray outside, shirted
With the overwhelming, cloaked
Odour of gutters overflowing -
As with the shreds of limpid sunlight -
In conflict, he senses the burgeoning
Night through his forty-watt sight.
Comments
I feel the mood with all of my sense. Particularly like "poised, sedulous", "biers of thrift", and ingenious ending "burgeoning night through his forty-watt sight."
Hey drop by for a visit sometime. I miss your insights!(Please note the new blog address.)
wonderful