In her every gesture is a sign of some other thing,
As in her love transpires doubts of some other thing.
Lord, she has not and will not understand me talking.
Give her another heart or give me some other language.#Source
Are those brows what propel that fetching gaze?
An arrow is fixed, but perhaps there is some other bow.
When you are in the city, what grief is there to us?
If we can make it to market, we can buy some other life.
Indeed we were dab hands breaking graven images,
But as we last, our way is blocked by some other stone.
Heart’s-blood boils and I would spill it completely
If to scatter the pure blood I had some many other eyes.
#Source
I die at that sound, my head would fly away from me,
But let me hear her tell my scourge, “Try some other blows.”
People are fooled that a world-burning sun rises
Each day as I air out some other hidden wound.
I would live a bit, if I gave not my heart to you.
If I die not, I would cry out here some other days.
A stream or a scream wells up when it finds no way.
If my nature is blocked, I find some other fluency #Source
Really nice poem....I enjoyed reading it.
Thank you for sharing @rajajordan
@moala thanks