venous night
flows on the white breasts
of god
this trembling hills
ran away
from a woman's dreams
who sleeps with a knife
there are leaves
swarm like birds with letters
the old woman walks on the ground
ground that suffering from amnesia
in her hump
she carries a late child
she will pass
trembling hills
amnesiac lands -
as she passed
the captain of the KGB
her child
will make the stars closer
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Author:
Sviatoslav Zhabotynskyi (
Offline) - Published: August 23rd, 2024 08:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 47
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
This wonderful write of night and dreams of gods and all they bring set so surreal in clouds of slumber. What a wonderful feel.
It felt like a sad ending but I could be wrong?
Excellent write
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