Afternoon

Who is in that chariot, charred by whispers
that linger in the after why and its continuance?
Why is water so important to the heart
and why is breeding so important?

I draw a carriage I can accept on paper.
I travel heavier than I ever intended
because of the vivacity of all veracity
and all that is I and always will be.

Villages and polluted drops of rejection
breed all despair a man can carry.
Thus the secondary man rekindles the fire
and despair itself feeds and dies.




Poetry by Bob
Read 441 times
Written on 2010-04-16 at 17:51

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