Caverns
Caverns dank and dark and deep
hold the bones of those who sleep
long ago in days of old
digging for their precious gold.
No heart, no soul, no wanderlust
all their dreams mixed in gold dust
Sweat-rank and pouring down
desperate faces formed in frowns.
Cold and wet with dripping spears
growing thick from all the years
left alone in dripping drops
splashing circles on cratered rocks.
No light enters nor retreats
Bats alone now hang to sleep
Crawling creatures live and die
sunlight hidden from their eyes.
Woe to those who enter there;
nothing's left but the empty stare
of miners searching for their fame
now buried deep without a name.
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 939 times
Written on 2009-11-30 at 03:35
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