the third of the Wales poems
on old brittle parchments recoiling
with white skin boy dying
dark armies march with all men
one fire death can muster
in an old English garden
it is in the green of it
four-legged creatures begging
burn with pride
one rolled down the hill
just to please her
and her green eyes
one sat on windowsills
doved and sparrowed
before the tarped light
the tide was whisper sighs
ruling with slow eyes rolling
over spidery eddy beach
I see no reason now
to bereave the winged creature
his goodbye
Poetry by Bob
Read 627 times
Written on 2015-07-11 at 20:37
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
the night smells
the night smells of dark luminolon old brittle parchments recoiling
with white skin boy dying
dark armies march with all men
one fire death can muster
in an old English garden
it is in the green of it
four-legged creatures begging
burn with pride
one rolled down the hill
just to please her
and her green eyes
one sat on windowsills
doved and sparrowed
before the tarped light
the tide was whisper sighs
ruling with slow eyes rolling
over spidery eddy beach
I see no reason now
to bereave the winged creature
his goodbye
Poetry by Bob
Read 627 times
Written on 2015-07-11 at 20:37
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Jamsbo Rockda |
| Texts |
 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
Increase font
Decrease