Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Disjointed Pieces, Bits Of Torn
Disjointed pieces, bits of torn
And butchered flesh, strewn randomly
Around a battle field of smoking dun:
These, these present verses, so I willed
So my Muse willed dictating to my mind
Sub-conscious all unconsciously:
She led me to the desert, and there
Parched and burnt
I asked her for her water which she gave
I imbibed it without a look at it:
And in the night the cold fell from the skies
And in the night the desert vultures came
And in the night the desert wolves did howl
And in the night the desert strangeness came
Appearing like a mist, a restless ghost:
And in the night the cold fell from the skies.
poem
by
Emmanuel George Cefai
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black