n the light of autumn skies,
one might sense this blind turbulent endeavour,
raptures veering like some wanton thunderstorm,
behind dark moon frost allure,
amber leaf vortex among bemused grey clouds,
gust-ridden disco blue hue,
tumbling high jinx from skyline moist beams,
damp rot urban shed cluster,
nomad squatter plight,
so at odds with pending freeze,
summer folly red blaze passed,,
heatwave immigrant rues latent scorn
a strained close quarter riddle,
never ending once an everlasting phase,
now deep chill month outlier,
sunshine and wet portent’s quaint platform,                 eccenteuc tide or mere blot,                                                   mud-splattered  ocean grazing bleak ink stain  pier,               lone wolf lifebuoy weeps,
shifting sand element's interval

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Mohamed Sarfan's picture

Dear Writer, Thoughts reside in the address of your poem; There the pages of life are written from smiles to tears. Why is only what we think different when what we see and enjoy is the same. Because thinking is a distinct and solitary aesthetic. All The Best My Dear Friend; Write More Congratulations

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