This one's yours, Pony. She's reappeared.


Flogging a Metaphor for All it's Worth

Am I trapped? Of course, I am,
The miner in his murky tunnel,
Seven stories underground.
The way to air and light is blocked,
But I'm not overly concerned.
The thing I want, the rarest
Stone, is lodged here, just
In front of me, and I will dig
Until I have it. I would rather
Die than leave it buried here
And turn away. The air above
Is not worth breathing.
Light leaves nothing I would
Care to see. I only want the
Stone. If it won't yield, I don't
Believe I've any reason left
To live, so, yes, I'm trapped.
I'm unconcerned. I'd rather
Not be freed.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 64 times
Written on 2015-05-15 at 01:54

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