MOORS (Poem)


Cloudy moors of Yorkshire
Veiled with bride like shyness
Everything tucked away in haze
Lingering in slow gestures

The horizon is limpid
Vast with fields of dying grass
Underneath it is decaying bugs
Trying to make a living of murky waters

Solitude leans on me
Caressing my face with cool breeze
Muttering nonsense
Uncurling this loneliness

The glimmer of the dapple
Time fleeing of my palms
Shivering with resentment

Among the sufferers no worse than Plath

24th May 2013
Wetland Putrajaya

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