(04 October 1943 / Germany)

Across The Main

She floats.
Above old shingles
and windswept tops
of lonely trees.
She wears a gown
of pure chiffon,
it helps her fly
and carry on,
but what she bears
in secret pouches
it's words of poetry
to soothe the soul.
She's one of us
but by default.
And if she steps
across the stream,
partakes of juice
badly fermented,
she tastes the cheese
with its own 'music'
and dreams away,
tshunkle asway.

User Rating: 3,0 / 5 ( 5 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

Hello Herbert. I love those opening lines they have a haunting quality.
This is about a poet on this site. H
I liked it...very good and I agree with Mahnaz...it has a nice soft beat to it.
It is a nice rhytmnic poem.....there's a soft beat in the words.