driven with bells sounding loud

driven with bells sounding loud
I see no other I as road dips into red
recollections on fire flaming high
with words at the end of empty barrels

scrolled like the ancients poor memory
I steam refusals like a powdered gun man
caught in the sullen room of claws and theft
with only a towel and a death certificate

young men die young and coarse
religion crawls chafed and burning hard
more men are rolling in the waves tonight
there is a subtle reference to dead seaweed

it's the juggling season you see
where homage is just another page
singing red and wet and final
we are like dogs hovering on line




Poetry by Bob
Read 557 times
Written on 2015-10-31 at 19:53

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Like being pummeled with images of war and death, almost to an unbearable extent. Powerful lines every one, but this one stands out: "caught in the sullen room of claws and theft
With only a towel and a death certificate."
Impossible to pick a favorite line!
Ashe
2015-10-31