Decades are like faces,
Eyes are like sky.
At first time we met
At last we must die.
Morning sun’s like an evening moon,
First we cry-
Last we roam.
Life is a line
That never ends.
Life is a capillary
On the God’s hand,
A great value
And scorching quicksand,
Breath of future,
Sweet neverland.
Life is darkness,
Smooth overload,
Delicate sound,
Picture of world,
Stone cold winter,
Hot summer night.
Life is a splinter,
Life is a fight.
23 Alive Broken Lines
© Copyright: Александр Шагивалеев, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107091801322
Свидетельство о публикации №107091801322
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You are absolutely right!Life is a routine!Routine that never ends!As philosophers say we are born in order to die and this happens every day!With warmth,Diana!
Диана Давоян 18.09.2007 23:30 • Заявить о нарушении
Диана Давоян 18.09.2007 23:30 • Заявить о нарушении
Diana,really, sometimes life is routine, but sometimes it's a pleasure and we can fly so high on the wings of our dreams. We are dying every day and every day we born with new cells of our souls. This poem is about contrasts. Contrast=fight.
Thank you.
With warm.
Александр Шагивалеев 21.09.2007 12:32 Заявить о нарушении
Thank you.
With warm.
Александр Шагивалеев 21.09.2007 12:32 Заявить о нарушении