whip-poor-will
whip-poor-will
onomatopoetically
pathetically
vent a bill
surrounding sounds
my lines besought
for hunting grounds
age slowly thoughts
a potpourri of wingless words
from windless worlds
my verse roothold
the manifold
of vein-pumped blues
regains my heart
with no excuse
neglected past
grows wildly fast
in chiliasm
it swells abreast
with who I am
air castles wast
the rest
it’s tireless
one of a kind
well undefined
in space and time
the sky
of resurrected mind
where rhymes
can clang
the whole shebang
July 13, 2011
the whole shebang
© Copyright: Юрий Лазирко, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111071401468
Свидетельство о публикации №111071401468
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