PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What kind of day is this may?
I want the answer from day herself
As she pregnants with heavy belly
hiddens the whiteness and silver helves
I couldn't blind but why i couldn't see?
When the glory eaves and hisses
before the frame of premonotion and hullacination
That shelter and shield the future that encave procession

The cloudy day
I wonder why you tempted my spirit
from flying to the meaningful hay
While the moment came with rift
With pressing bow before it rays
like suffering mice looking for shelter

The cloudy day
Why you couldn't have affinity
For my dearest hope that throws his shawdow
upon my casting wall that forms the meadow

The cloudy day
i could not forget your whistle
that blows around and slapping my face,leaving the aging scars and array
like a tribal african that loses his tuzzle

The cloudy day
I will always recall your meaning
Which you gave when I pray
And count you hours to hours in puzzling