At The Port

A poem describing the mood and thoughts of the painting The slave is reclining on the throne All port to port Floating ships. His cheek is dissected And tears flowed too slippery. Its windy harbor smells of poppies His soul is at the border Rouse and sing. One by one That one Only one Each one Day Song in color Is it black? And shows, shows and shows It seems to call with fingerless hands Without hands covering pa It's touching It goes to the bottom without legs. Beating the drum. DIN DIN DIN His heart beats in the wind.

Ieva Bosaite-Bliudziene Info & Biography

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