This poem is about mercy, for me at least.
Fossil-fuel clouds hanging in the sky,
Heat haze shaking the horizon,
Sun on my face like a hot towel,
Everthing to live for I think,
But as I walk I notice Life's
Little casualties, for whom no bell tolls,
Dead slugs as sticky as chewing gum,
Exploded shells of the slowest snails,
Cute-eyed chicks that will never fly,
And then something moves, a bug,
Black and shiny, legs in overdrive,
I stop, give it right of way,
And hope that I'll be spared too
In the spiritual food chain.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 714 times
Written on 2006-09-01 at 11:09
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There go I
A summer's day dripping in blue,Fossil-fuel clouds hanging in the sky,
Heat haze shaking the horizon,
Sun on my face like a hot towel,
Everthing to live for I think,
But as I walk I notice Life's
Little casualties, for whom no bell tolls,
Dead slugs as sticky as chewing gum,
Exploded shells of the slowest snails,
Cute-eyed chicks that will never fly,
And then something moves, a bug,
Black and shiny, legs in overdrive,
I stop, give it right of way,
And hope that I'll be spared too
In the spiritual food chain.
Chris Fernie, 2006
Poetry by Chris Fernie
Read 714 times
Written on 2006-09-01 at 11:09
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
Alison Clarke |
