Listen,
quiet still,
the slow brown river
flows on
as blue feathers float
hidden eyes on green wave
a woman in the branches
amidst grey black strata cliffs
orange beak and claw
trapped in the constellations
coagulation
scraps of yellow paper
transportation for the dead
old and broken down
trucks carve the valley, red
hyenas cry out
a beady black eye
in the trees
......And thankfully
no green eyed monsters.
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Poetry by Rev.Bola A
(copywrong: 20.1.12)
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