Home | ME/CFS | Poems | Photos | Futures | About me | Links | Search | Contact me |
New Poems |
Abstract |
People |
Love |
Nature |
Other |
Martyrdom I heard eighteen voices bouncing Upon eighteen fire-soaked minarets The noose of childhood tortures through The pain of sex or love unlearned Where once the leaves of Alexandria, Or the sand-whipped songs of a muezzin Had caroused their dream-fuelled aura Of virgins, edens, even many Palestines Now lived and breathed a different love One of other worlds, of betterment And martyrdom, of the clasp of Allah Embracing the hearts of the wise I saw the faith fly by on eight wings Flashing nothing tasting like a prayer Only five thousand doves followed there Each with a tear as white as clouds Each with a heart that would never again Beat or breath, touch or impound. Those doves I saw for the last time Swinging their feathers in the sun © David Incoll 2001 |
||
Back to New Poems index |
Home | | | Search | | | ME/CFS | | | Poems | | | Photos | | | Futures | | | About me | | | Links | | | Contact | ||
Copyright by David Incoll 2001 |