To vincent.
By durlabh
You did not love the sceptred sunshine You loved the summer’s undiluted sun Which in the end took its bitter revenge In depriving you of your saline serenity Into the depths of crazed pivoted symphony. Rest assured in your diverted quickened steps That nobody loved the soul within your crest The crazed straw hat topping your yellow hair Your red beard drenched in the crowds, a fear It was enough to drive the crazy sickened mob For a revenge on your enflamed tortured throb. Children will mock you Citizen will lock you Women will scorn you People will disown you. Dawning clouds and rustling winds Broken strokes of the lemon rinds Vermillioned lamps amid ochred yellows Cobalt blues of the sulphured mellows Embittered flowers in the wasted vase Vibratory landscapes in twisted grass Pavement cafes under the starry skies Purpled deeds in hallucinatory nights. With color and the light And amid a creative start An explosion within your soul And a bullet in your heart. Durlabh Singh. Written January 1st, 2001 © on Oct 09 2001 07:02 AM PST 0 • 10
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"You did not love the sceptred sunshine..."