The Sour Of Bitterness

Upon the heights of height,
blue blueberries arose from
the thresholds of procession,
hailing to colourless flags,
flimsy murmurs of heads,
beheaded by snobbish tongues;
swirling sounds of dumbness,
bequeathed by winding mills
of awakening bleak bygones;
my swords yell at my lips,
pills of forceful insomnias,
hardly come into frail pieces,
whereabouts, day-dreams born
out of the toils of nightmares,
thrilling promises of lost lands,
peeping through painÂ’s panes,
rusty snaps of embryonic isms;
ubiquitous libertine tempests
dare tread on the red lines of
longlife smothered silence, a
halt to farfetched dogmatism;
let bards lurk, dance,and even fall,
as falling leaves that cease to wave…
for no sense for a tree to green anew
without tasting the sour of bitternessÂ…

 

Todays best new poem was written by Mezri Abroug.

 
 

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