среда, 2 октября 2013 г.

Last moments (On the road)

Last Moments Last


Edges of stones cut through my fear;
I press my fingers harder down;
I hear
them shaking...no, I hear it coming.

Wind is kissing and stroking my hair;
Iron feels cold against my nape;
I dare
look, and - there, I see it coming.

Up in the cavern of heaven my bell
Tolls louder than the screaming horn.
I smell
grass and petrol; I smell it coming.

Crumble to pieces my nerves of steel,
as its wheels screech against metal,
I feel
it coming through me, cutting.

3 комментария:

  1. I absolutely LOVE your structure here, balance of rhyme and wordflow. Stunning.

    Your recent comment on my poem over at Poetic Asides left me absolutely breathless. THANK YOU.

    De Jackson (WhimsyGizmo)

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  2. That's your poem that left me breathless. I'm actually quite surprised you traced me all the way down here.))

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  3. Just clicked your name, and came over for a visit. ;)
    Gonna stay awhile.

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