The beatings of the drum

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
In secret we met
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

Lord Byron

Submitted: May 18, 2011

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Submitted: May 18, 2011



The beatings of the drum[1]
Alaaddin al-Dhahir
The beatings, the beatings of the drum
Are banging in my head
The beatings of that damned little thing
Taken captive by my ribs, by my chest
How could we have parted,
How could we have acted
In such a foolish way?
How could we have lost it all to a jest?
Drink to a paradise lost
Drink to a hell won
Drink to a life lost its sense,
Lost its fun
Drink to an order that became a mess
Drink to an intelligent heart turned dumb
Drink to the beatings of the drum
Drink to a sparrow lost its song, lost its nest
Where ever I turn I miss you, east or west
I am dead without you
I am left with a body but the soul had left
I miss the minutes, the hours, the days
When we walked abreast
Make an end to my sleepless nights
Take my hand, show me the way
Tell me what to do, where to go to, suggest!

[1] Written on May 18, 2011.

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