Monday 25 September 2017

Poetry 2017 Featured, Sayan Basak

Funeral of The Day

Patterns of the wind,
shifting in the pale floor;
the soft, careless hands of twilight's color
caressing the sands,
gracefully crafting hills and dells;
while the blue tongue of the sea
surges forward.
Lady Moon
awaits the death of Sun;
Her feathery feet
treading on the cool sands-
her snow-white raiment,
rippling with moonlight-pearls,
glowing with faerie light.
The night's black ink
caught in the prism of her eyes,
set in the shadows of her milky brow
between her elegant locks;
the dark coals
flickering across the blue heavens,
her dusky realm tonight;
Nature's palette-
smeared with swirling spectrums,
the dispersing crimson hues, the blood
of the tangerine Sun,
sinking slowly
into hissing waters.
The bleeding waves
slapping across the face of their slayer,
wombing across its fires.
Smoke rises from the red sea,
as water battles with flame.
The fleeting light is sucked
from every bloom,
and flickering candle,
and sealed in the chest of sea.
The funeral of the day
marches down the sea
to honeycombs in deeps;
and into Nature's arms, the Sun
returns once more to sleep.

No comments:

Post a Comment