Among cavemen


Enter not the dungeon with a tepid heart,
fraught with so much pain and loitering.
Fever is a full days reckoning and more,
reeking with fetid mistakes and failures
to see the formal fish as no norm to be
with fiery fingers pointing to the moon,
full with itself and the way it moves.
It is a fiendish lot to hand over in favour
a feast made of glossy beads and tools.








Poetry by Bob
Read 537 times
Written on 2009-02-14 at 18:18

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Brian Oarr
I'm glad I read this piece, else I'd have never have sensed the wonder of a "formal fish". Great use of language and a highly enjoyable read.
2009-02-14