And yet
Driven by the token tollbellowing chimney sweeps allow
I forge all insanity into the one word
cold nights insist upon.
Unpromised by tomorrow
seven ragged scarecrows beckons
seven mortally wounded winds
fall short of again.
Where once milky skin
embraced all bare dreams and more
a scarred breath flows anxiously
like a fleeing gull to the sea.
I have but bruised remains
and eyes that see the turning of leaves
into earths black and withered bowl
with tender longing's fall.
So sleep all dreams
that no longer haunt my covert days
sleep and let there be no more hope
beyond the sullen earth.
Poetry by Bob
Read 804 times
Written on 2005-11-08 at 01:25
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
John Ashleigh |
Zoya Zaidi |
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