Teira Naahi

Friday, April 29, 2016

Grip



Some are writing on the wall



Some are sleeping in the hall

Some are dreaming lullaby

Twisting thoughts through out the night


No one shelters from the dawn

No sinking ships on velvet lawns

Where no one questions who or why

What lurks beneath the clear blue sky


In battlements and scarred landscapes

In remnants of things misplaced

With hand on heart yet stood apart

In tavern songs of ageless art


Some are writing in the hall

Some do sleep beneath the wall

Some are dreaming twisting thoughts

In lullaby through out the night


One whom shelters from the dawn

Sinking their ships in muddy lawns

Where all is who and who is why

What lurks beneath the clear blue sky


In landscaped battles with scars on face

In remnants we grip the plate

With hand on heart still stood apart

In sorrow from the tavern art:






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