pillars stand at the front of this temple, abiding
by the destructive tearing of the distant windmills, turning
what was perfectly encrusted threatens to unlatch
i’m watching, wondering
when to us will be revealed the fossils
grinding
beneath the entrails of its chiseled cement.
-
Author:
obstructempo (
Offline) - Published: June 13th, 2020 02:52
- Comment from author about the poem: ...uhuh...
- Category: Surrealist
- Views: 37
Offline)
Comments2
ANGELHERE (I share this site with my Husband of 3 months) GOOD MORNING *OT* welcome to MPS - Thanks for your first Poem. I find in this life there are always WINDMILLS - Serving a useful purpose of grinding corn (still available in the UK - Stone Ground Flour) but also looming - as yet unfaced MOONSTERS ! It was ever thus - CORVID 19 is just one facet ! Shades of DON QUIXOTE ! MPS operates by reading & commenting on each others poetry - OK ! Please visit our site - Thanks A & B.
Yours ANGELA & BRIAN !
An extremely well concealed meaning must be in there somewhere.... or is it just a jumble of words?
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