|Agonia.Net | Policy | Mission||Contact | Participate|
|Article Communities Contest Essay Multimedia Personals Poetry Press Prose _QUOTE Screenplay Special|
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
2009-06-07 | |
The chest of my eagle is yellow chrome
His tongue sings the sweetest love songs
with his beak he makes silver
and pours it on to the earth
As if a million angels are flying down from the sky
and reflecting the face of my beloved on to the lake
the face of the lake is my mirror
I look and see thy face
The one Iâ€™ve fallen in love with
Iâ€™m so desperate to see face to face
Home sickness defeated me
I miss my home
The smell is so different
from the flowers in my garden
my love awaits me next door
However, the forest I walk is here
And the mountains I climb/
the green grass
once upon a time I jumped on... is there!
The Five-finger Mountains which I used to climb is there...
What has happened to our cottage?
Where the hell is our beautiful roof gone?
The flowers are dead in our garden...
Gunsel Djemal 1/6/2009 Bromley Road- London
|Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests.|