This city of which I abide is calmed.
Songs of undisturbed nightingale cools as heard.
With peace of mine do I think of this city-
Here glory of peace wouldn't be known in the ditch.
Since those years of leisurely feeling no ill ventilation,
Where the raised porch opens to the city's buildings,
I wish that wind that blows dust for troubles
Should even conform to the simple nature of this city.
Whereas this city's outskirt of the world beyond
Plays wars with sophistication and infected minds.
Never at any point will I inhale trouble sprays to sneezing,
Because its peace comes with good everything-
So well mannered nice gentlemen and ladies dwells
Of this city, composers of peace they survive within.
© James Abraham — Unpublished.
James Abraham was born in Uyo, Nigeria, in 1984.
Heptagrama, the web summed up.
All rights reserved.
Arts and expression + Poetry
