The Unholy Hour...
the town is always noisy at night,
the drunkards are singing in loud voices
off tune, without the sense of
compassion to the piece
or respect to the great composer,
at the other side is the basketball
in loud speakers, the referee is
eating his words and castigating
the syllables at this unholy hour,
as i write this piece, perhaps literally
i feel unperturbed. To each his own
noise, to each his own way of finding
peace for this indeed is an unholy hour.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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