Posted in the dVerse open night. This is a circular poem which means the last word of the line rhymes with the first word of the next line, and so on until the last line which is a repeat of the first, and the poem has come full circle.
Tomorrow will come,
drumbeat and cymbals clash,
flash open the sky,
dyed merciless white.
Flight of starlings chasing the night,
soars the white gull,
full indifferent to our flutterings,
mutterings and pleading,
ceding only to the waves’ call.
Fall we must from our sleep,
weep tears of rage,
stage our temper tantrums for the crowd.
Loud crash the waves whatever our complaint,
faint the sirens’ call from the sea,
we make do, in happiness or sorrow;
tomorrow will come.