8:25 PM
I was intending to turn in early last night so when I went back to my room at a quarter past midnight last night (or morning rather), I was determined not to switch on my laptop. However, when I crawled in bed, a bout of inspiration hit me and I ended up writing another poem.
Flower Under Water
I'm torching the harvest for one night's warmth,
dancing upon your broken dreams
I'm drunk driving with my acid tongue,
unpicking flawless seams
I'm slumbering coz I'm unwilling to rouse
to hardwork and reality
I'm walking away from the sinking ship
I'm impassive
Because I'm a flower under water
and oblivious to my wilt
As long as the orb glows forever,
I'll be a flower under water
Can anyone figure out what I'm getting at? If there is, does it take long to figure out? Coz personally I think a poetry is only worthy if it made sense to people after quite some time of pondering, and not having the meaning staring at everyone blatantly or made no sense to anyone but myself.
ashburn
