Presumptious

A wife in another name

 

Colors beneath an arch of baby-blue

Leaves that wave, not me nor you,

 Form that's sprinkled with ionic hue

They're all here like a worn out truce.

 

Umbi, the umbilical awakes from slumber

Smiles, he does, his recovery from wonder

Then laughs loudly, his voice a thunder

Much days, too many, his life in blunder.

 

Words that cajole make honeyed dreams

Spreads like nets in a world of streams,

Tills the raging storms like seas of cream

Delights foes and trolls, their eyes in gleam.

 

Was that a lamp in yonder hall of passage?

Its light shining here in the carriage?

Are those words we once thought marriage?

Written here now in this time manage?

 

Still Umbi insists we are but one life,

That doe with skin like buttery seif

And this gruff manner of human strife,

Portends an Eiffel in self as wife.

 

 

 

Reviews

[anne]

Still Umbi insists we are but one life,
That doe with skin like buttery seif
And this gruff manner of human strife,
Portends an Eiffel in self as wife....
this one is superb, so well articulated, so well it flows and wonderful thoughts...plz send rr for your work, i don't want to miss this wonder here...what is umbi?...loved reading it Dayran...

[Dayran]

Umbilical ... in reference to the physical nature of the self. Thanks for your review.