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A Battered Bruised and Beating Heart

A bird on the wing has no thought but the wind that holds,
A dream cast in moonlight has no care how it unfolds.
A dance for two has no rhythm but that which they choose,
A stream twists and winds round the stones with naught to lose.

Oh! To be free and drift away,
like the cares of yesterday.
A breeze carrying the happy leaf,
casting down the pain, and grief.

Floating upward heart in hand,
losing grip it falls to land.
Crashing, bloody to the ground,
it echoes with a mighty sound.

“Don’t cry for me!” it screams in pain,
“with me inside you’ve none to gain.”
For there never was more humble art,
Than a battered, bruised and beating heart.

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Published inMain

2 Comments

  1. A very good piece. Great feel and flow to this. You’ve given me a great read. Thanks for sharing.

  2. Going by your poems, I feel you are a gifted poet….this poem is full of rhyme, rhythm, metre and tremendous contents…thank you for posting this one…

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