Dirge..


Died, esoteric cries of pride,
O’ love, dream a might.
Strode on death, how far is alive?
Guffawed the abhorrence to bide.

In a forest , she slumbered,
Envisaged eyes, unencumbered,
Story i screeched is unnumbered,
Voice ,of a humbird.

Dry, like a dessert,
Cactus, so hassled.
Why this life is not lucently castled?
Does mighty even wrassled ?

Wrassled for reality,
Chicanery and its perpetuality,
For every orienation of sexuality,
Five , four or subsisted tridimensionality.

Β©reserved.

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17 thoughts on “Dirge..

    1. Wow, can i know the name of that might poet?
      I am really eulogised to hear that, what would be any greater appreciation is there , getting in the contrast of the past.
      Thank you gabrielle for resting your sight over my piece.
      God bless πŸ™‚

      Like

    2. He’s one of the great poet, the lady of shalott , ulysses, crossing the bar and more.
      His style, reality, everything, i admire him too somewhere after keats , shelly and else’s.
      Thanks πŸ™‚

      Like

  1. Really amazing post…… Effective +expressive…… Really you have great vocab +writing skill…… I really admire your work…… Seriously loved reading your post…… Lemme tell you….. You are one of my favourite blogger…… Keep smiling and writing like this…… πŸ˜ŠπŸ˜ŠπŸ˜ƒπŸ˜„

    Liked by 1 person

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