There is this audience,
that I will hear,
murmuring under this sun,
things altering with other things,
and chargrin the rule is solidifying now,
and raised sense of experience is,
the composed,
and if this I will dispense with,
a tale house air,
to loss and shrink and feed;
the mock frames and weary grains,
or still if I will not will,
waste my bones, for what?,
thus I see air of the,
current sanguinary of these,
spirits undisposed with.
Flavour's Choice
Bamanga Bashir
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 11/25/2020
Poet's note: Development is great and we should admire it.
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Poem topics: house, loss, sun, current, sense, hear, feed, experience, waste, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme