Rhythm
The swirling rhythm of the world
swells like dark thunder surmise
under anonymous money market skies
where a grabbed possession unfurled
still keeps a fixed position as a prize.
Whoa! Let go!
Africa, Brazil and Iraq too!
It's a drum, come on, flow!
Let the beat enfold you,
let the rhythm mould you!
Poetry by Bob
Read 679 times
Written on 2007-04-15 at 16:41
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by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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