Thursday 7 January 2010

OUR GREAT PEASANT.

Listing from the flood of voices
Falling from the floor above;
Someone came and fixed the noises
Winning over all our love.

Wounded in the process,
Pulling down the notice,
Vacant.

Sitting with her feat above us,
Waiting with our fate in hand;
Quickly took the form of others
Sailing thru our lovely land.

Wintered in the garden,
Digging round for bargains,
Buried.

Lilting from the bond of seasons
Glowing from the bank nearby;
Morning shed its blue horizons
Blowing open all the sky.

Sacred pacifiers,
Laden with desires,
Open.

Someone move and grace our presence,
Wanting love and going down;
Anymore from our great peasant?
Nothing, then we’ll sow the ground.

Wonderment and prizes,
Peace and its devices,
Granted.

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