The Flower Pot

I sing the requiem

a melody she left

when beginning to descent from the memory

I purposely bring in the flowers

arranged in a fashion unfit for man

to be brute to the fineness of lady’s hands

Undressed the shirt and wear

what she left behind the  most mystical

science I ever believed in

a solar power of sun’s rays deflected

And I pick nonetheless a chance

to sing a bold song of love and loveliness

But the requiem hangs its balance

ultimately by the mirror she left another

meaning for love

a sad longing for the flesh

and to mute it I silence my head

with liquor of miner’s rum

I lay naked under the sun.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s