A repost--I'm not focused on writing new stuff, although there are poetical buzzings vibrating my brain. Although, I tossed much of my past writing away, I still have some remnants of it I can recycle once in awhile.
Across the plains of time
The breeze shimmers the wheat
Among the cedars speckling the prairie.
On the brim of this ocean of earth,
Toothpick tall telephone poles
Crucify the ghosts lost in the era,
Filling the void with obsolete souls.
I can still hear their voice’s echo
In the cusp of technology,
Ringing in my ears,
The present future’s new birth.
by Clara Mae Gregory
10/29/2013
Posted on 10/29/2013
Copyright © 2026 Clara Mae Gregory
Poetry by Clara Mae Gregory
Written on 2026-06-27 at 13:27
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B.C. [Before Computers]
Across the plains of time
The breeze shimmers the wheat
Among the cedars speckling the prairie.
On the brim of this ocean of earth,
Toothpick tall telephone poles
Crucify the ghosts lost in the era,
Filling the void with obsolete souls.
I can still hear their voice’s echo
In the cusp of technology,
Ringing in my ears,
The present future’s new birth.
by Clara Mae Gregory
10/29/2013
Posted on 10/29/2013
Copyright © 2026 Clara Mae Gregory
Poetry by Clara Mae Gregory
Written on 2026-06-27 at 13:27
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
