Cemeteries billow in winds


Cemeteries billow in winds
where hate is an all constant;
battlefields bleed for what?
Birds in the sky?

My wife carries no bomb
beneath her smile;
my children do not cross
any hostile border.

Reverence leads to loss.
Poor men hassles you
when the moon is less
than your spare change.

Ramble you fool of oblivion,
tonight there is a different wind
breathing through the corners
of what is left.

The balance is temporal
and at times in an opposing space.
It is never less than its intention,
never more than its own.





Poetry by Bob
Read 697 times
Written on 2016-11-13 at 20:57

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This feels like impending doom and I feel it.
Ashe
2016-11-14


Kathy Lockhart
The title alone is poetic. Moving and very powerful.
2016-11-13