Rings of Smoke

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.

time

Posted on | November 3, 2009 | Comments Off

time-
heals all wounds,
they say,
and
blood red suns
augur
new beginnings-

in the far distance,
covered
under diaphnous eyelids,
a relieved melancholy sleeps.

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Category: english poetry

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    The lines generally are from some poem which I have, at some point of time or the other, loved. I do not mean, by including them, to be snotty or pretentious- but I would love it if you could identify the lines, and take much joy if you were interested enough to search them and read the original poems. If not- you can ignore them.

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