House Of Sensations

Poetry's best mate is fountains
on the hills-Crescent on me,
the wave, I thought-Best place
I could instance Rest-

All left greed honers the plumber-
A view to mite the hundre-
Limeted kindred glass to weak
vibrant house of sensations-

White screen dislumbre right
decisions to paint the seventh
sky while I wait for a signal,
I process-(wild love, wild love)

by Beatriz Gomes

Comments (1)

A good start with a nice poem, Beatriz. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.