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Sunday

Nothing

Nothing moves
in the still haze of noon

the wind calm dead

the leaf hangs motionless
from a dusty twig

a ravaged silence
emptied emotions
burnt in the spent fires
washed away by life absent

there is no road
only a creeping desert
~

4 comments:

  1. hi alaka dear,
    this poem, brief and economical and yet profuse and prolific emotionally, is evocative.
    It evokes in my mind the picture of a large sparsely decorated room in some quiet locality, a simmering afternoon, lazy thoughts, peace inside struggling with rebellious emotions in the head...and much more.
    I like the way you have painted a huge canvas using such minimal symbols.
    A humdinger!
    Keep writing...

    cheerz!

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  2. Quite imaginative. you are in control over content and language.Wonderful blog.Best wishes.

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  3. Interesting yet melancholy poem with great use of imagery to keep my focus. Very nice.

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  4. There are so many roads
    in the creeping desert

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