Array ( [sid] => 144884 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Babylon [time] => 2008-09-03 00:37:16 [hometext] => Thoughts of my wife while here in Iraq..... It's never too late..... [bodytext] => Sequestered to the waste-land, far from home
Where it was written, Great Babylon’s tome
Seeking a reason, for why it’s not there
Wondering why would anyone care
The cry of the sand for love and for life
A deafened echo amidst the man’s strife
He doesn’t and won’t hear, unless it is her
Laid at life’s wayside with the rest of the cur
The Mesopotamian-sanguineous sand
Is where he will dream of holding her hand
In the womb of where civilization was born
He thinks only of her, in a country war-torn
The desert like love, is barren and stark
Revealing its true loveliness when it gets dark
His eyes search for the crescent moon waxing
Her vanquished longing for him has been racking
Will it again rise and be as it was
Only if a thought of him causes her pause
She has the power of life over death
Her voice like a song on the angels’ breath
In the land of Babel he continues to wait
Love’s second chance, is never too late
[comments] => 3 [counter] => 193 [topic] => 22 [informant] => navydocny [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Babylon


Babylon
Date: Wednesday, 3rd September 2008 @ 12:37:16 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: navydocny
Sequestered to the waste-land, far from home
Where it was written, Great Babylon’s tome
Seeking a reason, for why it’s not there
Wondering why would anyone care
The cry of the sand for love and for life
A deafened echo amidst the man’s strife
He doesn’t and won’t hear, unless it is her
Laid at life’s wayside with the rest of the cur
The Mesopotamian-sanguineous sand
Is where he will dream of holding her hand
In the womb of where civilization was born
He thinks only of her, in a country war-torn
The desert like love, is barren and stark
Revealing its true loveliness when it gets dark
His eyes search for the crescent moon waxing
Her vanquished longing for him has been racking
Will it again rise and be as it was
Only if a thought of him causes her pause
She has the power of life over death
Her voice like a song on the angels’ breath
In the land of Babel he continues to wait
Love’s second chance, is never too late


This poem is Copyright © navydocny


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