one more poem from my trip to Britain


the night smells of luminol


the night smells of luminol
old parchments
white skin dying

dark armies march with all
one death can muster
in an old English garden

it is in the green of it
four-legged creatures
burn with pride

one rolled down the hill
just to please her
and her green eyes

I once sat on windowsills
doved and sparrowed
in the late light

the tide was my whisper sigh
ruling with slow eyes
over spidery beach alas eddy

I see no reason now
to bereave him
of this goodbye




Poetry by Bob
Read 575 times
Written on 2015-05-01 at 22:29

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