Sunday, November 19, 2006

The Bridge

Waiting on the high bridge
Out in the evening frost
Winds glisten, sprint past
And dark waters rush
Silvery beneath my feet
It’s a boat sailing in quietude
Rising on the ripples
Towering me, the moon
Behind the lone distant lighthouse
There is a mighty wave waiting
A star strewn sky looks on.
Must learn to wait…


Anonymous said...

Below the depth of upper calm
breeds a storm
Waiting to rise to surface
and reach the sky

Let the channels open
Let the reivers flow

Aaishik said...

Rimina, I contacted you. Your poem is, as expected, VERY BEAUTIFUL.
There is an immense lyricism about all your poems, with captivating intensity. A very sure hand, a very deft mind. Very mature talent!
But this anonymous is also a cool person. Who are you, mister - or miss?? You both are TOTAL poets (can't think of a more apposite term). Have you, Rimina, published an anthology of poems? I think the two of you should get together and publish a book, which, I tell you, will sweep people off their feet!!