Minggu, 26 Februari 2012

Poetry inventory


 Moribund
by : Novi Hidayanti
There is nothing left in this night
Twaddle sounded obscurely over there rust away
Frenzy was gulp down mizzle
Seemingly, the wound won’t prod deeper, but will be outwore
Heart champed at the bit for waiting morning
Pick sorrow up
Salve the wound up
Warm the soul up
Every raindrop is every wound
I am trapped in the crystal needle in my second
Darkness witness this gelation
Hoping shaft of light hug me in His arms

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